


Getting Used To This

by bonezone



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Don't Like Don't Read, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Jon Snow, Jon Snow knows nothing, Minor Character Death, R + L does notttt equal J, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, there will be more background relationships but the focus will be on J/D of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-16 11:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonezone/pseuds/bonezone
Summary: **Spoilers for season 7 episode 5, not canon compliant after that.**Who knew fire and ice would have so much in common? Who knew they would become friends? Who knew fire and ice would fall for each other?





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo! this is gonna be a slow burn fic and my apologies for any spelling/grammatical errors as this is my first time writing in a hot second. but anyways yes **IMPORTANT this all takes place right after ser jorah comes back to dany, not when jon leaves for the wall again because i want them to stay together in dragon stone and i can play god because it's my fic,, but yes anyway pls enjoy and i will try to update frequently but i have a pretty tight schedule as of late so it might fluctuate. OH ALSO the prologue switches from dany to jon's pov and its mostly just what happens in episode 5

(Dany’s PoV)

The wolf’s hand outstretched to the magnificent creature beneath her. She wondered if this man had a death wish. He walks on her land yet refused to bend the knee, denounced her a child and still he had the gall to reach out to the dragon she remained mounted on. Daenerys kept her eyes locked on the bastard of Winterfell, full of fire and interest as to how Drogon would react to this move. She could feel him let out a puff of air beneath her, a hesitant curiosity.

Even from her perch upon the dragon, she could see Jon’s hand quiver as he made delicate contact with Drogon’s snout. The dragon relaxed into his touch. Daenerys’s eyes widened and she peered down to Jon, he appeared fascinated with a hint of wariness, as any Northerner’s reaction to seeing and touching a dragon would be. Anyone’s reaction really. Drogon cooed and Daenerys felt her heart give in. Something maternal in her flared when she saw this. If Drogon could be warm to such an audacious man, maybe she could find it in herself to present the more amicable side of herself that she shows to friends, like Missandei, to the King in the North. She scaled her way down the dragon’s shoulder to be on the ground with Jon, striding up to him with a queen’s grace. Drogon cooed again and carried himself up into the sky.

“They’re beautiful aren’t they?” Daenerys watched him fly with elegance and smiled to herself.

“Wasn’t the word I was thinking of.”

She turned sharply, smile dropping into a glare. 

“But-but, yes they are,” Jon corrected himself after seeing Daenerys shoot him the death stare, his Northern cadence stuttering. “Gorgeous beasts.”

\---  
(Jon’s PoV)

It’s like Daenerys saw nothing but this man in that moment. Jon tried not to stare, but couldn’t help the strong feeling pooling in his gut.

“I return to your service, my queen” the older man paused. “If you’ll have me.”

“It would be my honor.”

‘My queen’, he called her. He bent his knee for her and called her ‘my queen’. He could have used ‘your grace’ but instead used ‘my queen’, the words laced with intimacy and knowing. Jon knew there was something between the queen and him. It was clear they had a long past together, from the tender embrace they shared to the smile that appeared on her delicate, fair visage when she saw him, it was clear. Perhaps he was an old flame. However, he had no clue as to why he felt such a distaste for this man in that moment.


	2. i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the official first chapter!! OH boy so this story was birthed from my brain when i was listening to boots by kesha (idk why bc they have completely different themes) but regardless that songs a bop so go listen anyway have fun with chapter 1

Jon couldn’t sleep. He tried, he really did, but no matter how hard he closed his eyes, all that he saw behind his eyelids was the Night King and his Army of the Dead, increasing with every corpse left north of the wall. Tossing around in the bed residing in one of the many guest rooms of the Dragonstone castle that Daenerys kindly allowed him to stay in, Jon decided to take a walk to clear his head. 

Davos had a room respectively, not far from his own. He thought about going to see Davos and express the worries on his mind to the older man. Davos, The Onion Knight as some call him, had a good heart. They hadn’t known each other for long but the older man already knew Jon well and was like a father figure to him. More often than not, he had an acute sense of what was going on inside Jon’s head and knew how to talk him down, but kept a realistic head on his shoulders. Davos believed family did not end by blood, he had pretty much taken Shireen Baratheon in as his own daughter and loved her. He seemed to do the same with Jon, who was forever grateful for it. He enjoyed the company of a strong man who has experienced the positive and negatives life had to offer. In many ways, Davos was similar to Jon’s deceased father Ned Stark. 

Ultimately Jon decided against going to Davos’s chambers as he didn’t want to disturb the man if he was sleeping. Sighing, Jon slid off the bed and dressed into boots, trousers from the day before and a loose-fitting tunic. He grabbed the cloak Sansa had made for him and slipped out the door quietly, grabbing a torch from one of the many sconces in the castle. On his way out of the castle he thought about Sansa. How much of a weight had been lifted off his shoulders when he saw her. She and Jon were never close in childhood, with him being a bastard, he was raised significantly apart from the Stark children and Sansa, whether she meant it or not, made sure he knew he was not a Stark. But the joy of seeing his sister after years of being away from and losing family was a feeling like no other. His heart broke for her. Sansa changed so much from when he last saw her, or rather she had been forced to. The poor girl had been assigned to be wed to Joffrey, a monstrous fool of a king, then smuggled out of King’s Landing by a man whose intentions with her were far from pure. Then Sansa was wed to Ramsay Bolton, bastard of Roose Bolton, and as short as that lasted, it made up for with awfulness. Beyond awful. Jon shivered, remembering the how the sadness, pain and suffering had hardened her once soft and carefree expression into one built up by walls to protect herself from further harm.

A loud echoing screech from one of the queen’s dragons withdrew him from his reverie. The darkness clouded his vision slightly but he could make out two of the dragons sleeping atop high ground nearby while one of them circled above him a few yards ahead of him above a cavern. Jon realized he had gotten lost in a trance remembering Sansa and wandered a long distance from the castle as he found himself just outside the entrance to the Dragonglass mine. His feet carried him further and noticed that alongside his, there was another set of footprints leading into the cave. They looked significantly smaller than his and slightly washed away by the salty tide, meaning whomever they beonged to had been out here for a decent amount of time before Jon.

Swallowing thickly, Jon switched his his torch to his left hand and kept a loose but firm grip on Longclaw with his right. He entered the dark cave cautiously, trying to keep a cover of stealth as best he could with the echoes of his stride bouncing off the cavern walls. The fire bowls inside had already been lit so he hung his torch on an available bracket. The first area of the cave had ancient etchings on the walls, the ceiling dripping a bit, and a small round pool of water about his arm span wide in the middle of the floor. Tightly wound, he rounded the corner to see an undeniable figure of Daenerys Targaryen, dark blue cloak hanging loosely on her shoulders. She had her back to him, standing in front of a cave drawing he had discovered and shared with her. Daenerys looked so serene here, lit by soft light of a few torches, silver hair shimmering and glistening as the light danced on it. Feeling that same feeling of heat in his belly, Jon released Longclaw back into its sheath, making a soft, sharp clink.

With that, Daenerys spun, face showing slight signs of tears. Her stunning lilac eyes, usually sharp and fiery but now rimmed with red, locked onto him. She was wearing a thin cream colored nightdress which reached her feet, but her bare ivory toes stuck out from underneath it. She looked ethereal. Her tense posture seemed to fade when she realized he was not an attacker but was replaced with a look of confusion as swiftly she wiped her nose and recomposed her stance, which oozed of royalty. He gave her a sad, but understanding half smile and approached her.

“Your child seems to be throwing a fit outside, Mother of Dragons.”

She visibly relaxed and gave a small smile, turning to face him fully.

“Oh, the poor thing,” Daenerys sniffed again, chuckling to herself. “That’s Drogon. He and I have a strong connection, he can feel when I’m upset. The other two, Rhaegal and Viserion, don’t have that ability like he does, unfortunately. So, naturally, Drogon is right by my side as of late. Gods I sound like an awful mother, picking favorites.” 

“Not really,” Jon assured, though he couldn’t relate to her situation, as he didn’t ever have kids, let alone dragons. “Makes sense you’d have a favorite out of all of them.”

“I suppose,” Daenerys stated, noncommittally. 

She turned back to the cave etching and ran her slender fingers over the wall. Jon sauntered over to another part of the cave with drawings, closer to her. 

“These are still so fascinat-”

“I’m sorry you had to walk in he-”

Both looked at each other and laughed lightly.

“You go ahead,” Jon offered with a nod of his head, encouraging her.

Daenerys sighed and turned to the middle of the cavern and sat at the edge of the pool of crystal clear water. It didn’t appear too deep. She lifted her dress up to her knees and dipped her feet into the water. Jon lowered himself, took his boots off and rolled up his trousers to join her.

“I was just apologizing for the fact that you walked in to find me in this state,” Daenerys gestured to her tear stained face, “It’s not very refined of me but I was not aware that you would be here.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

The two sat with their feet in the water, a heavy silence in between them. Noticing the unasked question between them Daenerys exhaled and closed her eyes.

“Night terror.”

Jon turned to study her face, and she opened her eyes and took part of the hem of her dress in her hands and twisted it in between her slim fingers, still looking down.

“I dreamt about my late husband, Khal Drogo,” she breathed. “And my son.”

“I didn’t know you have a son.”

“Had. Had a son,” she sighed, sadly.

“Oh,” Jon replied. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, though it’s quite alright. He was stillborn, I never got to hold him,” her vivid eyes found his. “It happened many moons ago, I’m alright but I haven’t dreamt about them in a long time. It came as a surprise that’s all. How did you end up here?”

“Same as you, couldn’t sleep,” he stated simply. Daenerys chuckled at that. Jon looked up and swore the room got brighter when she laughed. He liked her laugh. He liked it a lot.

“Why all the dark colors?” Daenerys inquired after a beat, motioning to his dark tunic and cloak, changing the subject.

“I guess I’ve just had a preference since I was growing up. And my sister made this cloak for me, just like our father’s,” Jon hummed. 

“She is quite a talented seamstress,” she inspected the cloak and handed it back to Jon, who set it beside him. “Tell me about her, Sansa, right?”

“Yes, well,” he paused, not knowing where to start. “She has her mother's Tully red hair and blue eyes, always very proper. Quite strong and brave, she’s been through a lot.” 

“She sounds wonderful,” Daenerys pondered for a moment. “What about you, why don’t you have the ‘Tully red hair’, as you put it?”

“Catelyn Stark was the one with the red hair, she was Sansa, Arya and Bran’s mother, but not mine,” Jon shook his head. “She wasn’t mine so I didn’t get the trait. Never knew my mother.”

“I didn’t know my mother either,” she looked up at him. “She died giving birth, but my brother Viserys said she was a wonderful woman. I would have liked to meet her.”

The two shared a sad smile at their newfound shared similarities. Daenerys went on about her family, her brothers Rhaegar and Viserys. He learned the reason for her middle name, Stormborn. On the night of her birth, there was a great storm, the biggest Dragonstone had ever seen, hence her name. Jon was ensnared by her aura. How she carried herself, how she spoke, softly and yet with power, and needless to say her exotic beauty. He had never seen anyone with hair so silver nor eyes with such intensity or pigment.

“Gods, it’s almost sun up,” Daenerys quickly picked her feet up from the pool, Jon followed. “I can’t believe you kept me here all night, Jon Snow!” 

She nudged him playfully, in a better mood than when he found her, which brought a smile to his face. He was glad he could help her feel better. He liked it. He liked it a lot. He could get used to it. Daenerys strode out of the cave, Jon could hear the flapping of wings and he heard her sweet talking her dragon on her way out. He followed her out and walked by her side to the castle in a comfortable silence.


	3. ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this may? contain more spoilers of episode 5 but i'm not exactly going with it how it went in the show so i guess that one's up in the air. anyway i sat down and planned about 11 more chapters for this and im excited to see where it goes so bear with me this is gonna be a long one. the rest are mostly gonna be from jon's pov simply because i find he's easier to write but i will throw in a few of dany's as the story progresses

Ever since Tyrion’s miscalculation of the Lannister’s army in Casterly Rock, Daenerys more often than not asked for Jon’s advice. She also asked that he attend meeting more than before. She wanted to know his input for future plans as her trust in her hand diminished slightly. It didn’t make much to him, as he was only here to obtain Dragonglass from the plentiful mines her land held. However Jon realized he needed allies just as much as she did, so if she would allow him to mine her lands of the material that was so crucial to winning this war then the least he could do was offer his advice when she sought it. So here he stood, at the far end of elegant The Painted Tablet, across from Daenerys. The idle arguing of Tyrion and Davos filled the chamber. 

“Olenna Tyrell is dead. Ellaria Sand is held captive by Cersei. Only the Gods know where Yara Greyjoy is. We have less than half the army of the Lannisters and even less ships,” Tyrion’s voice rang of urgency. “I know your people may not favor Daenerys but you must bend the knee. We need more allies.”

“None of this will matter! The Night King and his armies are of greater importance than this ‘who has a claim to the throne’ nonsense,” Davos paused. “No offense, Your Grace.”

The two went back and forth, Daenerys’s eyes quickly darting between the two of them, full of thought and consideration. Varys, with his hand to his forehead, seemed to be disinterested in the whole conversation and Missandei butted in occasionally but all Jon could think about was how every now and then, Ser Jorah would offer his opinion. When he did, Daenerys listened intently and he leaned oh so close to her. Jon couldn’t help but scowl for no reason. He knew of Ser Jorah and knew that he was a man of good intentions and very honorable. Jon also knew that two had a long and complicated history. What he heard from Varys was that Ser Jorah was by the queen’s side since she was young but then later banished by her. Twice. And yet here he was, back again, like all of that meant nothing. He just didn’t see the need to be by her side all the time, like a lost puppy. Of course there was no reason for Jon to be upset but he blamed it on lack of sleep from being in the caves the night before. 

He also blamed the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off Daenerys’s curves on his lack of sleep. She had such a fantastic shape, hips complimenting her chest. She was feminine and dainty yet strong and confident and it showed with how she held herself. Daenerys’s silver hair framed her strong jaw and face perfectly and fell to the small of her back. The intricate braids screamed royalty. And those lilac eyes. So intense and bright at the same time, full of fire.

“And what do you think?” Daenerys’s sharp tone drew him back into reality. 

Jorah caught Jon staring, and his brows furrowed at the bastard.

“What?” he asked, dazed. “My apologies, your grace. I got a bit lost in thought, didn’t sleep much last night.”

Daenerys smiled at that.

She had such a perfect smile.

“I said,” Davos snapped, impatient and not in the mood for this. “What if we brought a Wight to King’s Landing to convince Cersei Lannister that what lies beyond the wall is a threat and propose an armistice?”

“To be perfectly honest,” he started, tearing his eyes from Daenerys to meet Davos’s strong stare. “I don’t know Cersei as well as some, I do know that she has pride. She’s just suffered a major defeat by your dragon. Anyone who’s got pride like hers won’t be interested in rolling over in submission. Even if she did see a Wight, it wouldn’t matter to her because all she cares about is her power. And Daenerys is a threat to that power, so she’ll want to take out the threat first and foremost.”

There was a moment of silence among the room, Varys looked interested in the conversation now. Jorah looked a little surprised that Jon could form an intelligent response, surprised that he was more than just a pretty face.

“What do you propose we do then?” the eunuch countered. 

“I don’t know,” Jon replied honestly. “But what I do know is that going through the effort and danger of capturing a Wight certainly is not worth the large possibility that Cersei would deny a ceasefire.”

Varys blinked and looked to Tyrion who sighed.

“I’ll think this over again,” the Lannister huffed, exasperated and stressed. “Once I’ve had about five more glasses of wine in me.”

Varys gave a curt laugh and looked to the queen.

“You are all dismissed,” Daenerys announced, as continuing now would only result in more pointless arguments and frustration. 

Tyrion and Varys strode out, talking among themselves of Lannisters and problems Cersei was sure to cause. Daenerys went to Missandei’s side and linked arms, talking to each other in low voices and smiling. When the two were out of the chamber, Jorah hung back. Leaving Jon, Davos and Jorah alone in the chamber. The blonde man strolled to their side of the table and faced Jon. He was much taller than Jon, at least a half a foot taller.

“The queen cares about her dragons,” Jorah paused, looking him up and down. “More than she’ll ever care about you.”

The older man spun on his heel and walked out with heavy footsteps.

Jon blinked, not sure as to what just happened. He looked to Davos, who appeared to be smug.

“Next time we attend one of these meetings, keep your eyes off the queen’s ‘good heart’,” Davos snorted, chuckling to himself, and gave Jon’s shoulder a firm pat. “Just a word of advice from an old man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't get me wrong i love jorah but i do think it suited this story the best for him to come off a bit creepy (at least in jon's eyes lol) and i love davos i think jon and him have a great relationship. also fun fact, that last thing jorah said was based off something that happened to a friend of mine. my friend's girlfriend's jealous best friend had sent my friend a message saying "(the gf) will drop you in a second to spend time with her horse" and i just thought that was really funny lol. anyway leave a kudo if you liked it or a comment if you have input! i love to hear from u guys and get constructive criticism :-)


	4. iii

“What do you think of him, Your Grace?”

Missandei’s soft voice broke the silence between the two of them, arms linked together, as they strolled to Daenerys’s chamber. She looked to her friend’s warm eyes. The two had quickly grown from acquaintances to inseparable friends and Daenerys’s most trusted advisor. 

“Apologies,” Daenerys questioned. “I don’t believe I know who you speak of.”

“Jon Snow, King in the North. You told me he was accepted by Drogon, who exclusively shows affection for those who have the favor of his mother. I’ve noticed that he has been attending more meetings, and you seem to be more affable around him as of late,” she stated, quietly. “I believe Ser Jorah has noticed as well.”

She met Missandei’s arched brow with a puzzled air. Daenerys didn’t understand how any of this pertained to Ser Jorah. They reached the queen’s quarters and Daenerys offered Missandei to come in, picking up on cues that this conversation would not be one of few words.

“Well,” Daenerys started, both sitting at their respective chairs at the small table in the queen’s chambers. “Jon’s advice is valuable to me. I feel as though my Hand is struggling to fully abandon his family’s side and devote his services wholly to me. Jon Snow has a different perspective than Tyrion or Varys and I need as much guidance through this as I can get, if I’m to rule on the Iron Throne. Plus, Jon Snow has his people’s loyalty, if he bent the knee he would become a valuable ally to us.”

Missandei hummed in agreement.

“I see, but my question still stands,” the translator spoke. “How do you, Dany, feel about him, Jon Snow? Not as Heir to the Iron Throne and King in the North but rather as just two people, stripped of all formalities.”

Daenerys smiled at the fond nickname. 

The last person to call her Dany was Viserys, as he begged her for his life. Naturally, the name held a dark and negative connotation after that. But as she and Missandei grew closer and closer, their conversations of strictly pressing matters grew into light hearted ones discussing personal matters, Daenerys offered Missandei used the nickname Dany, if it suited her. Missandei, of course, took her up and used the shortened moniker when they enjoyed each other’s company, outside of the chamber of the Painted Table. She was the one Daenerys trusted the most after all. Ser Jorah seemed to be attached to referring to her by her full name or “his queen”, though she thought they had known each other long enough to escape such formalities. She wouldn’t have minded if he called her Dany, as he had heard Missandei use it before, but he seemed too much a gentleman to do so without Daenerys’s expressed consent. Tyrion and Varys were her advisors of course, but with the Lannister’s difficulty deciding if he was ready to let go of his family and Varys’s ambience of neutrality, they only had Daenerys’s wavering trust so they knew to call her by her formal title. 

However, Missandei’s question caused her to furrow her strong brows in consideration. Daenerys hadn’t thought about Jon Snow as much more than a goal, a goal to gain more allies to her party. And now since her friend asked, it provoked her to think hard about how she felt about him.

“He has a good soul,” she divulged simply. “A strong heart in his chest and a level head on his shoulders. A good man.”

“Well, he seems to favor you as well,” Missandei smiled lightly. “I assume I was not the only one that noticed this, as Ser Jorah delayed instead of following us out of the room as he does regularly. Jon Snow seemed to be in a trance as he looked at you.”

In a trance? Daenerys thought to herself. 

“He was probably just brooding to himself,” she bounced off the subject softly. “You’ve seen him do that before, stare off into the distance aimlessly, quite the tortured spirit.”

Missandei threw her a look that read ‘You know as well as I do that you’re denying what I’m implying’ but dropped the topic nonetheless. 

They sat in comfortable silence and Daenerys took a moment to glance at her friend. The soft glow of candles in her room always was so kind to Missandei’s features, her hair turned into a glowing halo framing her face. The translator’s soft features appeared a bit tense, looked though her thoughts were running faster than she could ever catch up to.

“How are you?” Daenerys inquired. “Is Grey Worm’s safety still worrying you?”

Missandei sighed and got up to fetch wine and glasses. This in itself was an answer to Daenerys’s question. She knew that her friend did not drink. Not before Grey Worm’s recent absence to command the army of the Unsullied, anyway. After he left for battle, Missandei would come into Daenerys’s chambers with her and the two would have a glass of wine, to numb her nerves. She hadn’t started drinking too much, she did not consume half of what Tyrion would drink in a day so it wasn’t worrying to the queen. 

“Yes,” Missandei whispered, lips over the rim of her glass and took a sip. “I know he’s strong but I just wonder to what extent that goes to”

The translator’s eyes went out of focus, as if she was experiencing a flashback, and her expression only twisted into more worry.

“Hey,” Daenerys reached out to set her hand on her friend’s shoulder. Missandei relaxed into her touch. “Grey Worm is strong and smart, enough so that he will not make reckless decisions on the battlefield. He is commander of the Unsullied for a reason. He’s not going to abandon you.”

Missandei offered a look of gratitude for Daenerys’s attempt to comfort her and tried to smile, but it ended up looking more like a grimace as it was strained with worry.

A knock at the door disrupted their conversation.

Daenerys rose from her seat and opened the door, Missandei’s eyes following her.

Ser Jorah stood in the doorway. Daenerys smiled lightly at her friend.

“Yes?” she asked the man.

“My queen,” Jorah started. “There’s been a raven with a scroll sent here. It carries the sigil of House Stark on its seal.”

House Stark? It must be for Jon. Daenerys thought.

“Bring the scroll to Jon’s chambers,” she turned to Missandei, who had raised her eyebrows at Daenerys as to say ‘How well do you think that will go?’. 

“And I will join you,” the queen added. “We will deliver the message to Jon.”

Ser Jorah scanned her face, but Daenerys kept her stone edge neutral expression. She looked back at her friend. 

“It’s alright,” Missandei assured her silver haired friend. “I should probably find my way back to my chambers, Your Grace.”

The queen’s closest friend rose from her chair and nodded her head at the two of them on her way out in farewell, her soft footsteps vaguely echoing throughout the hallowed halls of the castle.

\---

Daenerys rapped her knuckles on the chamber Jon was staying in and waited for him to respond. Ser Jorah was standing close next to her, hand on the sword attached to his belt. He seemed to do that whenever Jon was near, Daenerys noticed. 

She heard shuffling behind the door, assumed it was Jon making himself decent as she probably disturbed his sleep. She felt a twang of guilt run through her because she learned that he had a hard time falling asleep, just like her. To her, the sleep she got was precious so she felt errant bringing this to his attention at such a late hour. Daenerys also deduced that he would rather her tell him of the raven now rather than spare his sleep and tell him when the sun rose.

The door creaked and Daenerys readjusted her posture, kept her chin up.

Jon opened the door, hair looking unruly, loose from the bun he kept it in during the day. He was wearing trousers and the same dark tunic he wore in the cave with her. Daenerys hadn’t seen him without a bun in his dark locks. His curls in his squinted eyes, adjusting to the light change. Daenerys’s heart lept. Jon looked striking, dark hair falling to his scruffy chin, dark grey eyes scanning hers.

“Can I do something for you, Your Grace?” 

Jon’s Northern accent, thick with sleep, drew her from her ogling.

“We have received a raven,” Daenerys informed him. “From House Stark.”

He blinked in confusion. She offered the scroll to Jon. He plucked it from her hands, his fingers lingering on hers for just a second. Daenerys could feel Jorah’s heavy gaze flitting from her to Jon and back again, but she didn’t care, she looked into Jon’s deep stormy eyes and he extended his arm, allowing the both of them inside.

Jon broke the seal of his father’s house and carefully read the scroll while Daenerys stood idly by, a few feet away from him, Jorah sticking by her side.

“Arya’s alive. So is Bran,” Jon stated.

“I’m happy for you,” she replied. She was. He didn’t look pleased. “You don’t look happy.”

“I need to go to them,” the King in the North started. He looked as though there was a battle taking place within his head. Grey eyes met lilac ones. 

“And I want you to accompany me. Come to Winterfell with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUN!!! ive sorta been using bits and pieces of canon when theyre helpful but after this, itll be all from my head. anyways i didnt mean for this chapter to be long but i wanted to go into detail about missandei and dany's relationship, theyre super cute imo. also !! theres been limited jon/dany interactions but there will be more in the future i promise i just gotta pick up my feet and start working out the plot a bit more. so here it is, hope you guys like it. kudos and comments are appreciated :-)


	5. iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: just make this a short chapter  
> also me: *writes 2800 word chapter*  
> anyway this was supposed to be two chapters but they were just a bit too short to stand alone so i merged them. also this has been updating so quickly because i want to get the majority of my ideas out before i start my job next week.

“Come to Winterfell with me.”

As the time Jon spent in Dragonstone went on, he had speculated as to when this would happen. He had wondered when Sansa would write to him, whether it was to check up on him to make sure he was unharmed or if the strong hearted people in the North were refusing the power Jon passed unto her when he left. And now that time came. In the scroll, she explained that the people and leaders in Winterfell grew anxious at the absence of their leader, it would be wise for him to return home. But the aspect that moved Jon to decide he would go was the fact that Arya and Bran were still alive, safe as they could be in Winterfell with Sansa. He missed his family so deeply, Arya especially. He hadn’t seen her since their last interaction, before he joined the Night’s Watch. The two were always close in their childhood, well, her childhood to be specific as he was much older. Regardless, Arya was always kind to him in a way that Sansa never was. The youngest Stark girl had been assumed dead along with Jon’s youngest brother, since Rickon was killed by Ramsay, Bran. In Sansa’s letter, she vaguely expressed that Bran had changed, quite a lot. Jon didn’t care. His heart ached to see his family and go home.

Yet something held him back. Something deep within him told him that Daenerys needed to join him, if he was to go.

The queen’s eyes busily scanning his own, Ser Jorah took a step forward. 

“And why would she do that?” the older man retorted. “She doesn’t take orders from you, we need her here in Dragonstone.”

“With all due respect, Ser,” Jon snipped at the Mormont. “The queen can make the decision for herself.”

Ser Jorah visibly tensed, his grip on the sword at his hip clenching. Jon’s eyes glanced towards his own sword which was resting on the table next to the three of them. Daenerys raised her hand and glanced at Ser Jorah, signalling him to stand down. She clasped her hands in front of her and strode towards him, standing tall. As tall as she could, anyway, even with her straight back and perfect posture, she was still almost a head shorter than Jon.

“Why do you propose I join you?”

‘Because I can’t bear the thought of leaving you right now’ Jon thought to himself. Ser Davos was right, he didn’t want to admit it but Jon had fallen so easily into a personal relationship with Daenerys that he didn’t want to leave her with this older man, who was clearly madly in love with her. 

He had practically said it, Jon was there when Ser Jorah returned to her. Jon knew the look of admiration and of being helplessly in love on the older man’s face. Daenerys had smiled and embraced him into a hug. Jon had thought about that embrace more times than he cared to admit. He knew that the queen and Ser Jorah had something that no one could come between, and still, his selfishness got the best of him. 

The queen’s question hung heavily in the air, and Jon had to give her an answer rooted in logic rather than foolish desire.

“Your Grace, if you want to ally with Winterfell,” he started. “If you want the people to back you, you should know the people first. Let them know you as well. The best way to do this would be to go with me, show them you’re willing to make peace. Your home would be in the hands of your trusted advisors, Varys has told me they’ve done it before. This would not be the first time that they would take your place in absence, so there would be no reason to worry in that matter.”

This was all true, and Jon decided that would be the reason he would give people if they asked why he brought her with. Strictly political. 

Daenerys hummed softly in agreement.

“I will have a ship prepared for you by midday.”

“And will you be joining me, Your Grace?”

The queen bit her lip and looked up at Ser Jorah, who gave a discreet shake of his head. It was like a sharp stab to his heart. He hoped with all his soul that she wouldn’t base her decision on the opinion of an old man.

“I will ponder it,” she decided. “I’ll give you my answer tomorrow?”

“Aye.”

Daenerys gave a curt nod of her head and turned on her toes, striding out of the chamber door behind Ser Jorah. Jon watched her petite figure as she left. He closed the door shortly after the two left. After Jon had been confronted by Ser Jorah, he couldn’t help but feel infuriated when the man had shown up with Daenerys. He still couldn’t fathom why the older man was with the queen the entire time since he returned to his queen in Dragonstone.

Jon wanted to explain to Daenerys how much it would mean to him if she met his siblings, how he thought Sansa might enjoy her company, once they got past the prejudice most Northerners had for Targaryens. But he couldn’t say that to her just moments ago, because he feared that Ser Jorah would convince the queen that it was not necessary to go to Winterfell. Jon just wanted to talk to the queen more, alone, but it seemed unlikely to ever happen again with Ser Jorah just a step behind her at all times. He liked hearing her talk, not necessarily when they were all planning out battle strategies around the Painted table, but rather how she spoke with him in the cave. Daenerys seemed so happy talking about her dragons and the people in her past that she loved. He wished he had just stayed in the cave with her and never left. 

Similar to how he felt about Ygritte.

That thought in itself caused him to stop thinking. Ygritte? Why would he have made a comparison to Ygritte, his former lover, to Daenerys, his political ally?

The way Jon’s heart skipped a beat when Daenerys bit her lip, or the longing he felt for her when she left his chamber, was strictly political, of course.

\---

“The queen coming with us?” Ser Davos asked Jon, as Gendry and a few soldiers prepared the small boat on the shore. The salty winds of the sea creating strong waves crashing against the rocky shore nearby. Just as he said this, Daenerys walked down the stairs carved into the hill. Ser Jorah and the kind Missandei a couple paces behind the queen, and a few Dothraki foot soldiers behind them. 

“We’ll soon find out, Ser Davos,” Jon muttered, walking up to meet Daenerys halfway with Ser Davos on his heels.

“Your Grace,” Jon greeted.

“Lord Snow, Ser Davos,” she responded. “I will be attending your journey to Winterfell, along with Ser Jorah, if you’ll have us.”

Jon felt strong feelings, both relieved and discouraged. On one hand he had convinced the queen to come to his home, and on the other, she was bringing Ser Jorah along with her. A man who Jon had no idea of the specific nature of their relationship, but this seemed to be an answer. Daenerys willingly decided she couldn’t go without him. Jon tried not to let the disheartenment show. Ser Jorah seemed to notice this though, he straightened his back and stood tall while looking down at Jon.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

She smiled and turned to Missandei to say her goodbyes. Ser Jorah lumbered towards their small boat, to assist the soldiers preparing it. Ser Davos saw the brooding expression on Jon’s face and gave the younger a sad smile. He set his hand on Jon’s shoulder in understanding. Ser Davos could pretty much read the exact thoughts the King in the North was thinking at that point. After a moment he turned to help the rest of the men line up to get the boat in the water and motioned for Jon to join him. He sighed and started over across the sand. Just then, Jon felt a large gust of wind and heard the undeniable screech of a dragon, he turned to his right.

Drogon, Daenerys’s largest dragon, crouched on the rocky shore closest to the beach. He was perched awkwardly with his haunches and back feet up on the rocks and his front winged limbs digging into the sand so his large face was level to Daenerys. She calmly walked up to the beast, stretched her hand out to his snout and rested it there. Jon watched them with awe. It was fascinating to see them interact. He could clearly see that she did not lie about how she felt about them, Daenerys truly loved them with everything she was.

Jon thought about Ser Jorah’s comment after the last meeting was dismissed and thought of what he wouldn’t give for the queen to care for him even half as much as she did for her dragons.

“We’re ready when you are, Your Grace,” Gendry shouted over the winds.

She looked into Drogon’s eye and whispered to him. Jon couldn’t hear what she said exactly because of the noisy beach but he assumed she was saying farewell to the dragon. Drogon cooed before he turned to launch himself back into the sky with his brothers. The queen walked across the sandy beach. Daenerys paused at Jon’s side by the boat. She looked up at him and lifted her arms slightly, motioning for him to help her into the boat. He tried as best as he could to keep his hands steady as he placed them just above her hips and easily lifted her into the small boat. Jon then took his place at the front of the boat and helped push it into the water when Ser Davos commanded.

\---

Once aboard the ship that was waiting in the bay for them and once everyone was settled, they sat for dinner. Daenerys at the head with Jon and Ser Jorah at either side of her, Ser Davos sitting next to Jon and Gendry sitting next to Ser Jorah. The five of them ate quietly, Ser Davos and Gendry making light conversation. Daenerys hadn’t touched much of her food, Jon doubted it was because lack of hunger. She was looking a little homesick already. It was understandable, she had just returned to her family’s home and was now leaving again.

“Does your family know you’re coming back?” Daenerys inquired.

“I didn’t send a raven,” Jon replied as the question was directed at him. “Though Sansa probably assumed I would return at her request, not sure if Bran or Arya knows, Your Grace.”

Gendry choked on the bread in his mouth.

“Arya’s alive?” Gendry exclaimed, swallowing the rest of his food. The young man laughed to himself. “And she made it to Winterfell? Damn, if she isn’t one strong kid.”

“You know Arya well?” Jon raised his brows, directing his attention to Gendry.

“Aye, the two of us have been through some shit,” the bastard ducked his head, smiling to himself. “Bet she’ll be surprised to see me.”

Jon didn’t know why Arya would react to seeing him, but he felt as though it wasn’t his place to ask. He would just let it play out and let his sister tell him on her own time.

“Well, I bet they will all be happy to see you,” Daenerys remarked to Jon, with a smile.

Jon hummed in agreement, anxious to get home.

\---

After dinner, Ser Jorah offered to escort the queen to her chambers, but she relieved him of his duties and told him to get rest, he wandered out of the dining hall, leaving Daenerys and Jon. He didn’t speak but she looked like there was something on her mind.

“Walk with me?” her voice soft.

“Sure,” Jon accepted, standing from the chair at the table, following her to the main deck of the ship.

Daenerys walked among the railing with Jon to her left. He noted how elegant she looked in the soft moonlight, her silver braids shimmering. She paused and leaned against the railing, he did the same. They had their backs to the calm sea and looked out to the ship and the blanket of stars above them. Daenerys sighed in content and turned her head to look at Jon.

“What should I expect from the North?” the queen asked curiously. “I know a bit about Sansa already but what about Arya and Bran and others in Winterfell?”

Daenerys was wearing a dark grey dress that went to her feet, it wrapped around her arms and chest yet was cut rather low, showing off her neck, held up by a thin metal belt around her waist. Around her neck, a stiff, intricate, silver, collar-like necklace that came around her neck and rested on her collar bone. She looked beautiful yet powerful, she was stunning.

“First thing to know,” Jon tried not to fumble on his words as his heart raced, blushing a little. He hoped the cover of night wouldn’t show the rosiness in his cheeks. “You’re gonna want to cover up, it’s cold up there.”

“I know that,” she snorted with laughter, he smiled. “But what of the people?”

“Arya has always been spirited. She was interested in learning how to spar rather than sew or cook. Bran loved to climb and scout out the castle, but a climbing accident rendered his legs useless.”

“That’s awful,” Daenerys murmured solemnly.

Jon nodded.

“Sansa said he’s changed, I suppose we will both see what she means by that when we reach Winterfell,” he added. “As for the rest of the people in Winterfell, they’ll be cold at first. Like I said, they won’t want to see a Southern leader on the Iron Throne. But give it time, once they see you as you are and not some unknown Dragon Queen, they’ll warm up to you.”

Daenerys nodded and brushed a pale flyaway hair out of her face.

“Can I ask you something?” her lilac gaze met his. “What did Ser Davos mean when he said that you took a knife in the heart for your people?” 

Jon tensed. He had almost forgotten about that slip up. It seemed like weeks ago that he first met Daenerys. But no, it had only been a few days since they were introduced. Jon thought about lying to her, saying it was just a figure of speech but decided against it.

“I think Robb and Sansa got the strong leading trait in the family,” he admitted. “I never was good with leading people. I want the best for my people but the last time I was put into a place of leadership was the Night Commander at Castle Black. That ended with getting stabbed by my brothers and dying. Realistically, I should be dead, but a Red priestess named Melisandre brought me back. So from my limited experience, I may not be the strongest available leader in my family.”

“Jon…” Daenerys trailed off. He looked into her eyes, met with sympathy and worry. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m alright now,” he assured. “I just don’t want to fail my people again.”

They sat in a melodramatic silence for a moment. 

“I’ve always thought that those stars looked like a dragon,” Daenerys said abruptly, pointing to a group of stars, Jon’s eyes followed her slender, pale arm. “Those four shaping a diamond would be the head, and those a body and a tail.”

“Oh, yes,” Jon agreed, smiling, he placed his hand on her elbow, guiding it slightly above the star formation to another clump of stars. “And those could be it’s wings, if you wanted.”

“I see it!” Daenerys tittered. Jon realized he still had his hand on her arm. Flustered, he withdrew his hand, allowing himself to drag his fingers across her arm. The soft light hairs on her arm stood as he did this. She looked into his eyes and then back up at the stars.

“It’s so beautiful,” Daenerys sighed, gazing at the stars.

‘Yes, you are’, Jon thought to himself. 

Maybe in another life he would have said this to her. But in this life, she was in love with another. A man she has known since before she was Heir to the Iron Throne held her heart for himself, not a bastard from the North.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in that last scene, the dress i was describing was the one she wore to meet with Yara Greyjoy, i love it i think its so pretty. jon ur so silly to think that jorah has danys heart awe,, my sweet boy jon is so quick to assume. next chapter is winterfell get ready for some chilly dragon queen and meeting the stark kids! comments nd kudos are appreciated ! :-)


	6. v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jon 'thick in the head so i distance myself from the woman i luv just bc her old man friend is making faces at me' snow  
> here's chapter 5! this will have fewer chapters than i intended but longer chapters so its mostly a win

The remaining few days on the ship to Winterfell dragged on. Jon did his best to avoid Daenerys, leaving her time to spend with Ser Jorah rather than continue to strengthen the ‘alliance’ between Jon and herself. She still was friendly enough but he decided for the both of them that it was best to keep a distance. He kept his responses curt when she would attempt to make idle chatter at meals or during their free time. Instead, Jon would spend his time with Gendry, talking about their fathers, or with Ser Davos. Ser Davos could read Jon well and kept him busy with frivolous tasks around the ship, simply to give the man something to do besides mope in his room. 

Sometimes Daenerys and Jon would pass each other in the compact living area of the ship. He would keep his eyes forward and pretend as if they had no personal ties to each other. How it should be, he wasn’t her suitor and he shouldn’t act like one.

\---

The captain of their borrowed ship anchored them in the docks of White Harbor. They departed the ship, Jon led them with Daenerys and Ser Jorah behind him, and Ser Davos and Gendry behind them. Sansa had sent two men, with the Stark banners, on horses to meet them once they were out of the docks. The two men were ponying only two other horses behind them. Jon kicked himself mentally, he really should have informed Sansa of who all was coming with.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” one of the bannermen said awkwardly to Jon, noticing the people outnumbered the available horses. “Lady Sansa assumed that only you and Ser Davos would be coming off the ship. We can walk alongside you, but still two will have to double up.”

Jon nodded. He glanced back at Daenerys and Ser Jorah. Both of them underdressed for the crisp winds of Winterfell with hair whipping in their faces. Daenerys was wearing a tight fitting dress that flared out just under her knees over grey breeches with boots and a light cape across her back, held by a brooch of three dragon heads and a chain that went across her chest and down to her hip.

“I will ride with Jon Snow,” Daenerys announced, surprising Jon. He assumed she would ride with Ser Jorah.

Ser Davos and Gendry mounted their respective horses, two flea bitten greys and Ser Jorah, looking a little dejected, chose a black stallion leaving a pure white steed for Daenerys and Jon. The queen swiftly placed her foot into the stirrup and lifted herself into the saddle, he did the same when she was settled. Jon was sure to sit further back in the saddle, his hands placed on his thighs, allowing her room, to prevent them from physical contact. One banner-men went to the front of the group, and another behind. Daenerys spurred the horse forward and moved them to the front-most position in the party. She carried herself deftly on the back of the horse, keeping herself steady atop the rocking gait, which surprised Jon a bit. He wondered where she learned to ride this skillfully but then remembered she was wed to the horse-lord Khal Drogo.

In front of him, the queen shivered, the cold, barren tundra was a climate she had never been adjusted to. Daenerys slid back in the saddle until her back touched his chest, seeking the warmth from Jon’s radiating body. He tensed at her movement, clenching his grip on his thighs. 

They stayed like that for the rest of the ride, awkwardly rocking against each other with the horse’s steps on the uneven land.

\---

Just before dark, they reached the East Gate. Jon quickly dismounted the horse, avoiding Daenerys’s perplexed expression. The bannermen informed the guards that the King was back, to which they knelt and opened the gate.

Sansa stood to meet them with her hands folded in front of her, pleased to see her brother back and motioned for the stable hands to bring the horses to the stable.

“It’s good to see you again, brother,” Sansa greeted, her icy blue eyes darted to Daenerys and Ser Jorah behind him. 

“This is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne,” Ser Jorah stepped a pace forward. “I am Ser Jorah of House Mormont, My Lady.”

“Your Grace,” Sansa hesitantly bowed her head, and then glanced to Ser Jorah, “Mormont? Lady Lyanna Mormont is the young Lady of your house, Ser. Did you come to take her place?”

“No, I am only here to protect and serve my queen.” 

Sansa made a small sound of acceptance.

“Jon?”

The demanding tone of Jon’s youngest sister broke the tense conversation between Sansa and Ser Jorah. Jon looked passed Sansa to the courtyard, where Arya stood, her sword in hand next to Lady Brienne. The same sword Jon had given her so long ago, Needle. She sheathed her thin sword and ran to her brother. She reached him quickly, running at him to throw her arms around his neck, standing on her tip toes. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, not able to help the smile forming on his face. 

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” Arya breathed, pulling away to face him.

He threw a genuine lopsided smile at her.

“I can’t believe you kept this,” Jon replied, glancing down to Needle at her hip.

“Of course I did,” she retorted, smiling from ear to ear. “It’s poked many people full of holes, like you said it could.”

Jon felt his heart give at those words, the same ones they had exchanged before he left for the Night’s Watch. Arya’s quick dark eyes darted from Jon to Gendry. Her expression lit up even more, if that was even possible. Arya ran to him and paused before he swooped her up into a hug.

Jon smiled at the sight, still unsure how they knew each other but happy for them both. 

“Where’s Bran?” Jon turned to ask Sansa, her expression faltered into a sort of sadness.

“He’s in his chambers,” she started. “We can visit him after our guests get settled in, yes?”

Jon nodded, curious as to what happened to his brother. He led Daenerys and Ser Jorah to two open rooms and Arya and Gendry wandered around the courtyard. Ser Davos returned to the chamber designated as his before they left for Dragonstone. Jon brought them to the guest house and bid them both quick farewells. He made his way back to find Sansa.

“The people called for a meeting,” Sansa informed him.

They walk to the main hall to find all the lords and ladies seated and bickering amongst themselves already. Jon and Sansa took their places at the table.

“Welcome back, Your Grace,” one of the lords shouted over the noise, noticing Jon and Sansa were present and sending a message to the rest. The door opened again, Daenerys walked in, alone. “I assume your visit to Dragonstone proved useful?”

Jon resisted looking at the queen as she sat next to Sansa.

“Aye, this is Daenerys Targaryen,” he explained, still not looking at her. He could feel Sansa’s glare at his informality. “She has kindly allowed us to excavate the Dragonglass located in the mines of her island. We have more than we’ll ever need.”

A short round of shouts of approval echoed throughout the room.

“Our wheat supplies are slowly but steadily growing,” Maester Wolkan said. “Thanks to Lady Sansa’s decision to build granaries. Going forward, we should be just above the amount needed to last the winter.”

“That’s good to hear,” proud of his sister’s ability to run Winterfell, Jon continued. “Proceed with this decision, we will need as much wheat as we can get.

Now, we are going to need to prepare every person here to learn to fight in the upcoming war. I’ve sent for the blacksmiths to start forging weapons with the Dragonglass we got. Arrow heads, swords, war hammers, anything you need.”

“We’re glad to have our king back, Your Grace,” Lady Mormont spoke with a light smile, representing all in the room.

Jon smiled. It felt good to be back.

“Glad to be back, My Lady,” he replied. “We will meet again soon, I expect an update on how training is going. Winter is coming, everyone, we need as many soldiers as we can get.”

The lords and ladys scattered from the main hall, back to work. Jon sat for a moment while Sansa rose from her chair, feeling Daenerys scrutinizing him. He ignored her though, and rose from his spot and followed Sansa, who was taking him to Bran. Leaving Daenerys alone in the main hall.

\---

Her friend, at least Daenerys hoped that she and Jon were still friends, gave her the cold shoulder throughout the whole meeting. Not even when he was addressing her, did he look at her. Even his sister picked up on it. It hurt. Back in Dragonstone, Daenerys had thought there was something between them. Jon had been so kind to her in the cave when he found her, he had talked with her the whole night. But somewhere along the line between being on the ship to setting foot on the Northern soil, Jon acted as if the two had never had a conversation together. It was frustrating. She considered them close, she enjoyed his presence, more than she wanted to admit. But now he was acting like a complete stranger, it didn’t feel right.

“You love him,” a voice from the shadowy corner of the now empty main hall. “Don’t you?”

A thin man clad in dark greys, wearing a small silver brooch, engraved into the shape of a bird, slinked up out of the shadows to the table she still sat at. He had dark hair peppered with age and streaks of grey on either side of his head. The man in front of her walked with nobility but his voice and the words he spoke oozed grime. She didn’t know what it was about this man, but something about him caused her to feel deeply unsettled. Daenerys stood, to meet his squinted eyes across the table between them.

“Who are you?” she demanded, voice unwavering.

“You worry that you’re falling for him,” the man ignored her question. “He would be a weakness, something your enemies could use against you. But now he won’t even look at you. The gall, still you can’t help but long for him. Not so wise, if you ask me.”

Daenerys had it, she was already having a shitty day and this didn’t help.

“I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, The Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains. I have three dragons at my command, I’ve met plenty of people like you. People who stir others up for their own selfish entertainment. They’ve all ended up burnt to a crisp or in the bottom of one of my dragon’s stomach.”

The smirk on the man’s expression faltered at the outburst, fully realizing what he had just done.

“Many apologies, Your Grace,” he bowed. “Lord Petyr Baelish, charmed.”

Daenerys snorted, rolling her eyes at his attempt to gain her favor and stalked out of the room angrily.

\---

Sansa led Jon to Bran’s chambers, the same ones he stayed in before he lost his legs. 

“Bran,” Sansa knocked lightly on the wooden door. “Jon is back.”

“Come in.”

She pushed the door open, Bran sat in a wheelchair at the window. Sansa left them, footsteps echoing down the hall. 

The last time Jon had been in this room was when he was saying goodbye to Bran before he went to the Night’s Watch, Catelyn sat by Bran’s side, demanding he left the room. Bran turned the chair so he was facing Jon.

“You’re back from Dragonstone,” Bran stated simply, his voice had changed. Not solely like a voice changes as a boy is growing. It was empty.

Jon still went up to his brother and placed his arms around the younger. Bran lightly embraced him back.

“I saw you in the cave, the queen too. She looked wonderful there.” Bran said plainly, seeing his brother’s confused air, he explained. “I can see many things now.”

“Alright,” Jon replied awkwardly. Bran had changed so much. It’s like everything that once made him Brandon Stark had been diluted to simply a ghost of the person he was before. Yet he still loved the younger as he always had, he now understood how Sansa had difficulty describing exactly what had happened to their brother in the scroll. 

“She’s not in love with the knight,” Bran hinted. 

“What?” Jon didn’t know how to respond. 

“Daenerys, she’s not in love with Ser Jorah. She loves him, he loves her but it’s different. The queen holds only a friendly sort of love for him, the knight wants her to be his. It won’t happen,” Bran speculated, looking back out the window. Below them Daenerys paced frantically from the main hall into the guest house. “Just thought you might want to know.”

“I… alright,” Jon decided against arguing with Bran. There wasn’t any reason for Bran to lie about that to his brother, just like there was no reason for Jon to play dumb and act like he didn’t care about it. If Bran knew about the cave, he knew that any attempt to deny his feelings for Daenerys would be a waste of time on Jon’s part.

“I-I’m sorry Bran, we can catch up later, I need to leave,” Jon was anxious to go to Daenerys after learning this.

“I know,” Bran said, but Jon was already halfway out the door by then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand boom goes the dynamite. i love bran and i feel like he would reveal little bits to ppl just to help them with small things like he did with jon. our fave bastard just needed a little push and there he goes. also i want dany to utterly destroy littlefinger with her dragons in the show. the next chapter is gonna be a doozy if u cant already tell ;-) comments nd kudos are helpful !


	7. vi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last night's episode killed me gosh. anyway jorah gets put back in his lane and dany is salty at jon

Daenerys stomped furiously across the courtyard, she felt like she was being watched but couldn’t be bothered to pay any attention to it. She felt nauseous. Jon Snow had completely abandoned her in this foreign land, wouldn’t even look at her, and then Lord Baelish taunted her after the meeting. Today really wasn’t her day. The queen tried to recall if there was anything she had done to offend Jon. She had been nothing but kind to him, sure she didn’t address him as the King in the North, but that didn't seem like it was the root of their falling out. But other than that, the queen remained perfectly pleasant to him, amiable even. Jon had been kind as well, he was not fully allied with her but that was the whole point of this visit, wasn’t it? He had told her he supported her but wasn’t so sure that his people would agree, preventing him from bending the knee. 

She had unexpectedly shown him her vulnerable side in the cave as well, he didn’t seem to mind it. Daenerys agreed to go to Winterfell with him, hoping something new between them would emerge, but instead was met with bitter cold lack of presence from Jon. It filled her with frustration. If they could talk about it and figure out what happened, she would be willing to improve upon herself. But seeing as he refused to even look in her general direction, she doubted he would allow being confronted face to face about it. It left her unsure and insecure as to what she did that was so wrong, in Jon’s eyes.

Daenerys angrily paced to the chambers designated to her, and slammed the door behind her. Soon after, there was a soft knock. She swung the door opened, Ser Jorah stood, face twisted in concern. She allowed him in and shut the door with one hand

“Is something the matter, My Queen?”

She turned her head and shot him a sharp look that silently answered his question.

“Is it Jon? Has he done something to betray you?” Ser Jorah tensed and anger clouded over his eyes. “I knew he was no good.”

In any other circumstance, Daenerys would’ve sided with her friend, but his assumption that Jon disrespected her rang of jealousy. Sure, he was right, Jon was the cause of her vexation, she did not deny herself that. It just seemed as though Ser Jorah was too quick to logically assume that it was Jon. Any number of things could have rubbed the khaleesi the wrong way, from the cold weather to the tension held for her by the Northern people, but Jorah chose Jon right from the start. She spun on her heel to face him fully.

“What do you mean by ‘you knew he was no good,?” Daenerys demanded fiercely. “Jon Snow has been nothing but kind to us until now. You had no right to assume he had malevolent intentions.” 

Jorah opened his mouth as if to defend his words, but she silenced him by raising a hand. 

“I’m not finished, she continued. “You have no reason to dislike him. Sure I’m upset at his actions but that’s my own problem. It’s not yours to run into with your sword drawn. I can defend myself, I can handle my own troubles, I am a Queen. I don’t need your constant protection, I can fend for myself.”

“Of course, My Queen,” Ser Jorah asserted himself into a calmer state. “But all due respect, I’m still correct to assume that Jon is responsible for your frustration?”

Daenerys threw her hands up into the air.

“Yes! He’s been acting like a real ass to me, you’re right. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Well, no, I just-”

“You just what? You could have told me that he would cause problems for me?” she felt like she was spewing fire. “You might be right, Ser Jorah Mormont, but there was no reason for you to suspect him. That man has done nothing to offend you, he invited us to his home.”

“He invited you, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah pointed out. “Not me.”

She waved her hands, dismissing the insignificant detail.

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. I guess I know you don’t like him but there isn’t any reason to be aggressive to him.”

The knight was taken aback slightly.

“Don’t think I don’t see you gripping the sword at your hip whenever he’s present. Or the dirty looks that you gave him the whole time he was with us at Dragonstone. Speaking of Dragonstone, I don’t know why you stayed behind with him and Ser Davos when we all left the chamber of The Painted Table or what your intentions were with him, but I don’t want it to happen again. You’re a grown man, there’s no reason for this childishness, I expect you to be civil with him for the rest of our stay.”

Daenerys was out of breath at the end of her rant. It felt good to get it off her chest, she sort of regretted that it had to happen now, when it was clear she was taking her frustrations out on Ser Jorah but it had to be done. Sooner or later she would’ve exploded and she supposed sooner was better than later. 

“My deepest apologies My Queen,” Jorah bowed his head in earnest. “I recognize my actions have been, unwise to say the least. I will be civil with Jon Snow, but I do have reason to dislike him.”

Daenerys crossed her arms in front of her and raised a brow.

“I’m in love with you, Daenerys,” the older man said with a light, sad smile. “I’m deeply and truly in love with you. I have been since you were wed to Khal Drogo. I’ve loved you all of these years, seeing you in and out of a lover’s arms, and I suppose I simply can’t do it again. I can’t just sit back and let it happen, like I did with Daario Naharis. A small part of me thought that if I could somehow deter Jon Snow, you would finally return feelings for me that I feel for you. I know now that it was foolish, it won’t happen again, Your Grace.”

Daenerys stood, in shock as to what just took place in front of her, with her mouth slightly open. With every word that came out of Ser Jorah’s mouth, she could feel the anger in herself melting away and being replaced with something between sympathy and guilt. The two stood in her chambers, the queen’s thoughts bouncing around in her skull, going faster than she could comprehend. 

Ser Jorah just spilled his heart out to her, and a part of her knew it was coming. Daenerys wasn’t clueless, she had a suspicion that as of late, Ser Jorah had fallen for her. She had never assumed that his feelings went all the way back to when they first met, though. The queen felt a stab of guilt in her heart. She had been belligerent about her involvement with Daario Naharis, not attempting to hide the draw she felt to him, even if Ser Jorah was present. Daenerys examined his blue eyes, finding only bittersweet honesty within them. He broke the stare, turning his body and walking out of the door. Daenerys sat at the table in the corner of the room, left alone with her thoughts.

\---

Shortly after Ser Jorah’s departure, another short series of knocks came at the queen’s door, pulling her back into reality. It was late, the sun had almost fully set, so she couldn’t fathom who would be at her door in this hour. The queen opened the door to reveal a flushed and out of breath Jon Snow.

“Oh, Jon Snow, do you need something?” she forced out, gritting her teeth, she spat the words out as if they left a bitter taste in her mouth. Just as quickly as it had been snuffed out, the flame of anger in her heart flared again. Daenerys crossed her arms in front of her.

“I, uh, yes?” Jon looked like he had sprinted across Winterfell to see her. “Can I come in, Your Grace?”

Studying his expression for a moment, Daenerys wordlessly moved out of the doorway, allowing him in. He seemed to notice her friendly disposition was twisted into something different at this point, he visibly swallowed and settled himself in the middle of her room. Daenerys closed the door and stood near the wall, keeping a distance between herself and the bastard. The air was heavy between them

“Have you come to bend the knee?” Daenerys inquired, cruelly. If he was going to act colder than ice to her, two could play at that game. “Because if not, I see no reason for you to be here. Perhaps you came here to abandon me in another land I’ve never set foot in, surrounded by people who give me a looks that suggest they hate everything about me. Or maybe you’re just here to pointedly ignore me and refuse to even look at me. Pick your poison, Jon Snow.”

Jon grimaced at her words, which had sliced into him like a dagger. Her brows furrowed at him from across the room. He let out a shaky breath and looked into her steaming lilac eyes. 

“Actually, Your Grace,” regaining his composure, Jon clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve come to apologize, I know I’ve been acting like an ass. My brother helped me to come to that realization and I hope you can forgive me.”

Daenerys snorted in disbelief.

“A child,” she emphasized. “Was the reason you came to your senses. A boy, just over half your age, has more sense about this than you do. Unbelievable, Jon Snow.”

“No, Your Gr-”

“The nerve you have, not just as a friend, but as an ally, to not even look your queen in the eye? You can’t tell me you didn’t know what you were doing, I won’t believe it. Your sister saw it too.”

She started to pace.

“I’m not trying to defen-”

“Do you even care about what happens to me here? There are plenty of people in your lands that would happily see my head on a spike because of my father,” Daenerys shrilled, voice raising to a shout. “Is this all a trap? You got what you wanted from me and now you’ll leave me to my own devices, completely alone in this harsh land. You take the Dragonglass that’s so precious to you and then desert me. If that’s all you wanted why did you invite me here other than to get rid of me once and for all? Maybe Ser Jorah was right about you.”

“Daenerys!” Jon shouted frantically, he stepped up to her and put his large hands on each of her upper arms, physically stopping her from pacing. They were not even a foot apart from each other. Daenerys could feel his light breath on her skin, his frenzied dark eyes looking into hers. 

“I’m sorry. Truly I am,” Jon still held onto her. “I don’t know what Ser Jorah thinks of me exactly, though I can get a vague idea, but I assure you I didn’t mean to hurt you. Yes, I was isolating you, I thought it was in our best interest but I know now that I was wrong. I’m so sorry, Daenerys, I won’t let anyone here hurt you. I doubt they would, as you’ve supplied us with more Dragonglass than we know what to do with, the lords and ladys of Winterfell are grateful for that.

Of course I care about you, I cared about you in that cave in Dragonstone and I still do. You’re not just a source of power or materials to me, you’re my friend and I don’t want to lose you.”

Jon’s voice wavered at the word ‘friend’.

The words he said acted like ice to the fire in her soul, calming her anger. Before she could respond, his arms went around her waist, enveloping her small figure up into a firm yet gentle hug. Daenerys was stunned at first, it was a bold move on his part. The right move. After a second, she stood on her toes and softly placed her arms around his neck, as best she could. Daenerys breathed in the smell of the furs on the cloak around his shoulders.

The scent of Jon Snow was almost intoxicating. The smell of clean linens and a sort of earthy masculine aroma mixed together and lingered perfectly on him. 

“We’re still friends, right?” Jon hesitated, voice full of hope.

Daenerys released him from her embrace, a growing smile twinkling on her face.

“After you bend the knee,” she stated plainly. At seeing his dumbstruck expression, she snorted. “A joke.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jon laughed nervously, reaching his hand behind his head. He turned to the door before he paused. 

“Thank you, My Queen.”

“What for?”

“For forgiving me.”

Daenerys smiled as he left her room.

‘My Queen’ he had called her. She liked the way the words sounded from his voice. She could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaAAh i can write smut no problem but fluff like that? makes my knees weak lol. atta boy jon, this chapter was super fun to write and im looking forward to developing their friendship/relationship further. comments and kudos are appreciated :-)


	8. vii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a filler chapter but with a few super important parts towards the end. dany and sansa bond a little, dany realizes things and someone is being sneaky

The days in Winterfell rolled by slowly, everything seemed calm, as calm as they could be anyway. Jon busily attended to the needs of his people, all preparing for the oncoming war against the dead. Daenerys often joined him, observing everything about the people, from their stubbornness to their loyalty to the leader that they believed in. Before coming to Winterfell, Daenerys did not see the urgency behind Jon’s concerns. There was a physical Wall of ice between the dead and the living, it had kept them out all these years, Jon had even fought there. If it had kept them out for this long, what was the urgency? 

To say the least, seeing all of the lords, ladies and even Wildlings that were allied to him and who believed in his cause, opened Daenerys’s eyes a bit to the reality of the events taking place before her. The queen wasn’t highly educated in the history of the North, but she did know that Wildlings and men south of the Wall were not typically known to get along, let alone ally together for a greater good. She recalled the somber words Jon Snow had disclosed to her when they first met in her throne room back in Dragonstone, ‘You’ll be ruling over a graveyard, if we don’t defeat the Night King’. In the moment, it seemed like a scare tactic. But now that she witnessed all of this and learned about Jon Snow and the people behind him, it all became very real.

Daenerys looked out the window of her chambers, out to the courtyard. The people buzzed busily around the armory. She even saw young Arya Stark, deftly sparring with a tall blonde armored figure. Two young, dark haired men stood to the side of them, one leaning against his war hammer and the other holding a sparring sword, they watched intently as the other two sparred. Though much younger, Arya nimbly danced around the other, sword in hand. It was interesting to see. It reminded her of when she had reopened the fighting pits in Meereen, the quick versus the strong, though this time it seemed as though the quick easily bested the strong. 

A gentle knock came at Daenerys’s door. She ambled to the door and opened it, displaying Sansa Stark, her bright auburn hair braided and resting on her shoulder.

“Lady Sansa,” Daenerys blinked, she had not expected to see Sansa at her door.

“Your Grace, I wanted to give this to you,” the young woman extended her arms out to the queen, in them was a thick white cloak with light furs rimming the collar. “I had a bit of trouble sleeping last night and I assumed that you may not possess many warm clothes, and, well, I threw this together for you.”

Daenerys accepted fabric into her hands and unraveled it. The cream colored fabric flowed downward elegantly, it had a loose hood and the shoulders rimmed with marbled white, brown and black fur. It was beautiful, Sansa didn’t give herself enough credit. She described it as being ‘thrown together’ but this was far from what that would entail. The seams were simple yet neat and clean, the work of an excellent seamstress.

“Lady Sansa,” the queen breathed. “This is immaculate. Thank you, you were right as well, snow is not something I’m quite used to yet.”

“You’re welcome, Your Grace,” Sansa bowed her head curtly. “Would you accompany me on a walk? There’s something I want to show you.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Daenerys offered her a genuine smile. She shimmied into the cloak that was gifted to her. It fit her wonderfully, it was a little loose in the shoulders but Sansa had not been given Daenerys’s measurements so it was not tailored to her but she was ever grateful for it. Sansa had assumed right, Daenerys didn’t have much to wear that could protect her from the nipping winds of Winterfell. She wore a pure white dress that split in the front over light grey breeches. The dress was low-cut and didn’t have sleeves, but with the white cloak, the outfit felt complete. 

Sansa beamed at Daenerys’s evident satisfaction. She offered her arm to the queen.

They walked past the courtyard, arm in arm. The innermost part of Winterfell was alive with the buzz of people, training, forging or just living. Jon was among the people sparring, he hadn’t been there before Sansa came to Daenerys. He had changed since their argument, since their making up as well. She noticed things about him that had changed, small things, but noticed by her nonetheless. He held himself with more casualty, maybe it was because he was finally home again, and was eager to make conversation with Daenerys, which came as a shock because he didn’t seem like a man of many words. But the thing that caught her attention was that Jon had stopped wearing his hair tied up. She thought it suited him better. His hair was exquisite. It looked soft, she wanted to run her hands through his thick, loose curls.

Jon saw her from across the clearing and threw her a lopsided smile, dropping his guard, earning himself a sharp smack from a dulled sparring sword from his opponent. 

She ducked her head smiling to herself, she felt Sansa’s kind gaze on her.

“I assume my brother apologized for his actions from a few days ago? I had come to do that with the cloak, like a peace offering, I don’t know. I can’t have the idiocy of my brother soil the new relationship our houses seem to have. Jon historically acts on his heart rather than his head. It’s a good quality, but not the best to lead others with. It might get him killed one day,” she paused.

“I haven’t seen him smile like that in a long time,” Sansa added and smiled sweetly around her words.

Daenerys glanced up at the taller while they walked. Her heartbeat quickened and she couldn’t help but feel her stomach flip.

“I think he’s just glad to be home,” she insisted. 

“Maybe.”

Both of them knew Daenerys was wrong, but Sansa let it fade between them.

“You seem to be quite the opposite of Jon, in that sense,” Daenerys stated. “No offense intended, you just seem to have a better sense of leadership than he does.”

“Many in Winterfell would disagree with you,” Sansa chuckled. “But you might be right. As awful as it was, living under the Lannister’s roof taught me a great deal. I had to grow up and in a twisted sort of way, I suppose Cersei took me under her dark and crooked wing. She molded me into the perfect queen to rule by Joffrey's side. I might not be where I am now if she hadn’t.”

“When I sit on the Iron Throne, I don’t want to rule like she does. She’s caused too much pain and stress across the Seven Kingdoms. I don’t want to become like Cersei.”

“You are nothing like Cersei, Your Grace,” Sansa assured her. “Cersei Lannister is manipulative, her intentions never pure. She’s cruel and stubborn, a lethal combination for a queen. She does not care what stands in the way of her own desires, she will destroy anything in her path. Cersei chooses violence. You are Daenerys Targaryen, and after all the time I spent with her, I can assure you that you are nothing like Cersei Lannister. Plus, Jon likes you and I don’t think he would be capable of tolerating anyone like Cersei. If you don’t trust my judgement, trust his.”

Sansa seemed to think there was something special about the way Daenerys felt for Jon, and vise versa. Sure, Daenerys had thought about it, her and Jon Snow as an item. But it wouldn’t happen, it couldn’t. She was a queen in the midst of a looming threat that was the dead, there wasn’t time for romance. 

Daenerys certainly didn’t feel anything for him like that either. She didn’t feel her heart jolt when he smiled at her, she didn’t long for him right after he left the room and she most certainly didn’t have to catch her breath when Jon had hugged her so tightly the few nights before. 

Shit.

Daenerys Targaryen was undeniably falling for Jon Snow.

She bit her lip, realizing what this meant for her.

“Well, here we are,” Sansa’s voice snapped her back into reality. She opened a clouded glass door for the queen, revealing vibrantly colored flowers and greenery. The warmth that the room radiated was perplexing, the warm air mingling with the cool from the outside. They both stepped inside and Sansa closed the door behind them. 

“This small portion of Winterfell is located over hot springs, allowing for there to be growth and warmth in this garden all year round,” Sansa explained, grazing her hand over a broad leaf nearby.

“It’s beautiful,” Daenerys commented, struck by the liveliness of the plants that immensely contrasted the rest of Winterfell.

“Yes it is, Your Grace,” Sansa agreed. “It’s always been symbolic to me. The seemingly bland exterior of this place, but if you take the time to get to know the place, really know it, you will never cease to be amazed by what it has to offer. It’s so often that the people resemble the home they live in, and Winterfell is just the case. Our people are cold and stubborn, sure, but give them time and what they lack in warmth, they make up for with fierce loyalty. The North has so much to offer. Fight alongside us and you will not be disappointed. Just something for you to think about, Your Grace.”

Sansa placed a delicate hand on Daenerys’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.

\---

“Your Grace, The Dragon Queen of House Targaryen is here in Winterfell, brought by Jon Snow. Your plan worked even more in our favor than expected. If I’m to assume correctly, she poses more of a threat to you than Jon Snow does. I will take it upon myself to make her my top priority, she will remain a threat no longer. After she is eliminated, Jon Snow will be next and I expect you to uphold your end of the deal, name me Warden of The North.”

The man read over the scroll to himself before signing his name at the bottom. He allowed the ink to dry for a moment before rolling the parchment up and dripping hot wax over it, embedding his house sigil into the seal. A raven already perched upon the desk he stood at, he tied the small scroll to the bird’s ankle and allowed it to hop onto his arm. 

Under the cover of darkness, he strolled to the stables in Winterfell, where he had been discreetly receiving and sending messages to King’s Landing as of late. The bird expertly trained, knew it’s destination and took off into the night, moonlight glistening on it’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooo! here it is chapter 7! i started orientation for my job today and wasnt really feeling myself for most of the day so i only started writing later into the night so its a bit later than usual but let me know what you guys think via comments or kudos ! :-)


	9. viii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we see a teen rated work grow up into a mature rated work

Jon was eager to get to his chambers that night. Even as King in The North, there was nothing more he could do than prepare for winter and the dead at this point. It left him with endless amounts of time in his hands, which he used to spar with anyone who was willing to contest him. Today he went up against Brienne of Tarth, ‘the big woman’ Tormund amorously nicknamed her. The blonde was a skilled fighter to say the least, she challenged him to think of what he was doing rather than blindly attack, like he had been so used to with men of lesser skill such as Ramsay Snow’s men. 

His body ached from today's session though, resulting from Jon’s mind being preoccupied. Daenerys had walked through the courtyard with Sansa, she wore a cloak that appeared to be the handiwork of his sister. The queen looked like a true Northerner. Her beauty was distracting and it had earned him a deep bruise in his side from the blunt sparring swords they had used. Brienne continued to best him, save the couple of times he pushed the queen out of his mind though that didn’t last for long. Jon couldn’t escape her. Her lilac eyes seemed to pierce into him whenever they were near each other. Earlier in the day, he had caught a hint of her perfect smile before she ducked her head. It stayed with him until nightfall, and even now, Jon pictured her full, rosy lips forming a flawless grin over her straight, white teeth.

In the midst of sparring with Brienne, he realized something. Daenerys was beautiful. That was a given, of course, but she was beautiful to him, inside and out. From her unique love for her dragons, to even the smallest things, like how her nostrils flared when someone challenged her power. 

Daenerys had captured Jon’s heart, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. 

He pushed the thought out of his head, undressing to his smalls. Jon ungracefully flung himself onto the bed, sinking into the furs atop the mattress. He laid in the bed for a bit but sleep didn’t seem like it was going to be an option at this point, not when he was so desperately trying not to think about Daenerys. And her mouth.

Jon’s thoughts betrayed him and he pictured the queen’s lips. He imagined her lips soft on his, contrasting her sharp teeth biting on his lip. Daenerys was a force to be reckoned with, she would most likely want to be in control. Jon imagined her in his lap, running his hands through her shimmering hair. Dragging his nails down her back. Resting his hands on her hips, squeezing the soft skin there. 

His heart quickened as he slid a hand down under his strained smalls, his want for her heightening. Jon brushed his fingers down his length, shivering at his own sensitivity. It had been a long time since he had done this last. Tentatively, he brushed a thumb over the tip. A chill traveled down his spine and he took his bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing a gasp.

Slowly at first, Jon encircled his hand around himself and stroked up and down.

Daenerys appeared in his mind, he pretended as best he could that the hand down his pants was her’s. He pictured the curve of her chest, she often wore dresses that dipped down her sternum, only giving a hint of what was hidden underneath. The curves of her chest were soft and tempting. 

Jon quickened his pace, rubbing a thumb at the sensitive tip every now and then.

He envisioned himself, ripping the sultry dresses from her figure, kissing her everywhere, down her chest, her belly and finally down to her warmth. The bastard imagined biting her neck, gently of course, but hard enough to bring the blood up to the surface of her fair skin. It would be quite a sight to see, the queen’s porcelain skin littered in dark love bites from himself. He wanted her and it was making him crazy.

Jon heard a sharp knock at his door, making him jump and quickly removing his hand from his undergarments.

“May I come in?”

Just his luck, the woman he was just thinking of while touching himself was now waiting at his door in the late hours of the day. The fact that she was here now did nothing to lessen the bulge below his hips.

“Aye,” he called back, trying to keep his voice steady. “Just give me a second.”

Jon shuffled around the room, throwing on a pair of dark, loose pants from their scattered position on his floor. It was his best bet to conceal the bulge his legs.

The King in The North opened his door and offered Daenerys inside, not missing the way her eyes darted down his bare chest. And lower. She blinked before recollecting herself.

“So many scars, Jon Snow,” she placed a hesitant hand to the side of his temple, fingers grazing over a healed gash that started over his dark brow and went over his eye socket. Jon froze, looking into her eyes, her touch hot on his skin. Daenerys’s delicate fingers traveled from his face down to his neck, then to his chest. His torso was a wasteland of scars. She ghosted her hand over the deepest, the one over his heart. “Earned by fighting for your people, some even given to you by those whom you fought for,” she moved her fingers, connecting each of the scars with an invisible trail of her digits, “You are one of a kind, Jon Snow, I would choose no other to fight along side now that I’ve seen what you’ll do for those you fight for. You can expect my armies behind you when the dead come, My King.”

Daenerys kept trailing her hands down until they reached the waistband of his trousers, where she teased her fingers along the line of fabric. Jon sucked in a breath, watching her carefully. He took the smallest of steps towards her, their profiles only inches apart. Daenerys boldly hooked her finger under the band of his pants before giving him a daunting smile and used her free hand to gently push back on his chest. She turned on her foot and walked out of the room, hips swaying just a bit too much to be unintended. 

It left Jon astonished, letting out a slow breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He walked slowly to the table in his room and poured himself a flagon of ale, watching Daenerys’s petite figure return back to the guest quarters across the courtyard. 

“So you and the queen, huh?”

“Bloody hells, Arya!” Jon exclaimed as he coughed on the ale in his throat. “Who taught you to sneak up on people like that?”

“No One,” his youngest sister replied with a smirk. She was standing in the open doorway, her hands behind her back. Arya allowed herself in.

“What do you want? How long were you watching us?” Jon asked, a little upset at the invasion of privacy.

“Long enough to see Her Grace shaking her hips as she walked away from you. And to see you shamelessly watching. Not very proper, Jon,” Arya chided, pouring her own ale. Jon reached to stop her as an instinct but stopped himself, realizing she was old enough to take care of herself now. “Daenerys seems to be doing alright among the people in Winterfell, she doesn’t need your protection anymore. And yet you seem to be spending an unfathomable amount of time by her side.”

“You seem to be spending an awful lot of time with Gendry, as well,” Jon countered.

Arya quirked a brow as she took a sip of the ale, before chuckling lightly. 

“I suppose we both have dug ourselves in a bit too deep this time,” Arya raised her flagon. “Here’s to making the best of it.”

The Stark and the Snow clinked their flagons together and drank.

\---

He wore a hooded cloak, not risking being seen by anyone, seeing as there were candles lit in several chambers. The man strolled to the armory, swiping a longbow from the rack of weapons as well as a quiver of slender arrows. A dagger or perhaps a sword would have been ideal, as he was not highly skilled in archery but there was no reason for the queen to be alone in a room long enough for him to make his move, not after their last interaction. He would need to make it from a distance, so a bow and arrow would have to suffice. The shadowy figure retreated back to the chambers provided for him, opening a satchel Cersei Lannister had given him so long ago. It revealed three small vials, one containing the viscous substance that was the poison named The Long Farewell, the other two antidotes in case of the poison contacting his own skin. The poison originally intended for solely the bastard would now latch it’s roots into both Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik im cruel for this chapter but yknow i want tension so im gonna make tension happen. comments and kudos are appreciated ! :-)


	10. ix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a long one but a good one

It had been just over a week since Daenerys had walked in on Jon and he couldn’t catch a break. She was with him as much as she could be. Now that Ser Jorah had let up on the bodyguard act, she was free to tantalize Jon whenever she pleased. And he savored every second of it. He loved the way she had started wearing those low cut dresses that he adored with the cloak given to her by Sansa more frequently, the way she made a point of making more discreet, flirty touches during meetings or walks they went on. Her kindness mingled with lust. It was all so new to him. Ygritte was nothing like Daenerys. As much as he had loved the wildling woman, she almost seemed like she couldn’t care less about him sometimes. The cold redhead undermined him at every turn, ‘You know nothing Jon Snow’. They had their bad days sure, but the few good ones made everything worth it. But with Daenerys, it was something different entirely. Whatever was blossoming was sweet yet unspoken between them, innocent but intimate. 

It was just after mid-day and the pair were headed towards the great hall, the cooks were preparing a feast today. Jon and Daenerys walked together in a comfortable silence, standing just a little too close to each other than friends should be. On their way, Ghost trotted up to his master, returning from wherever he had been before. Jon grinned and knelt down to the direwolf, scratching him behind his large ears. Ghost sat and panted happily, scarlet eyes focusing on the queen.

“Your Grace, this is Ghost,” Jon turned his head to her, still petting his canine friend. Daenerys had froze, looking a little taken aback at the huge direwolf in front of her. “He’s perfectly friendly, he’s been by my side since he was just a pup, found him before I left for the Wall.”

“You trained him yourself?” Daenerys asked curiously, lowering herself and extending her hand to the beast. Ghost sniffed in her direction, he hesitantly looked to Jon and then lowered his head to her, demanding she give him pets.

Seeing Daenerys place a gentle hand atop Ghost’s head melted Jon’s heart. 

“Aye, my father found their mother dead after she had fought a stag. She had a litter of five pups, one for each of the Stark children. Lord Stark wanted to kill them, he thought they wouldn’t survive as their mother was dead but I pointed out the direwolf was the sigil of his house and convinced him to allow the Stark children to care for them as their own. Grey Wind for Robb, Lady for Sansa, Nymeria for Arya, Summer for Bran and Shaggydog for Rickon. But not many of them remain. Lady was the first to go, Cersei Lannister demanded the wolf be put down after Joffrey was bitten by Arya’s wolf. It wasn’t Lady’s fault, though Robert Baratheon bent to his cruel wife’s will and ordered Lord Stark to kill her anyway. Grey Wind was killed not long after Robb was, both decapitated and his wolf’s head sewn onto his corpse by the Freys and paraded around the battlefield at the Red Wedding. Ramsay Bolton wrote a letter to me saying he skinned Shaggydog and used his furs as a rug, to make his point further, one of his men threw the head of the wolf to us at Battle of the Bastards.”

Daenerys grimaced.

“I’m not sure about Nymeria or Summer,” Jon continued, swallowing thickly. “Though I imagine they would be by the side of their masters if they still were alive.”

“But there was six of you, not five,” Daenerys inquired as she aimlessly pet the direwolf. 

“I found a sixth pup, Ghost, the runt of the litter with fur as white as snow, separated from the rest of them. I’m a bastard, My Queen, a Snow not a Stark,” Jon corrected her.

“That’s not what your people seem to think, you are King in The North after all,” she countered. “You were raised a Stark and no one can deny that.”

Jon looked to her, lilac gaze met stormy grey. He went to pet Ghost, brushing his hand along hers. She leaned against him faintly. 

\---

Jon sat, with Daenerys at his left at the head table among the lords and ladies in Winterfell. Lord Baelish took his place two seats to the right of Jon, the one directly right of him was where Sansa usually sat. But tonight she sat at a different table. Jon glanced around the room, spotting his sisters at a table in the middle of the hall. Arya and Gendry sat at the end across from each other, Sansa next to Arya. She was smiling, talking with obvious excitement with the squire that traveled with Brienne, Podrick. Tormund sat next to Brienne trying to make conversation. Ser Davos, Ser Jorah and Bran were among the others at the table. 

Seeing Sansa allow herself to drop her guard with someone was refreshing to see. For so long his sister had been forced into situations where showing emotion was viewed as showing weakness. But now she was back in Winterfell, home, and adjusting to the responsibilities that came with being Lady of Winterfell with Jon helping her through it if needed. He glanced to his right and saw Lord Baelish who was clearly seeing the same thing that Jon was, with a whole different attitude towards it though. The older man was infatuated with Sansa, Jon knew that much and recalled before he had left for Winterfell, he forcefully warned Lord Baelish not to do so much as speak to Sansa in Jon’s absence.

Across the room, Sansa laughed at something that Podrick had said and Baelish clenched his hand around the fork he held. Jon cleared his throat, making the lord aware of his presence, a warning. The older man broke his stare and ducked his head, suddenly hyper-focused on the food in front of him.

The room buzzed with chatter of the people as they ate. The cooks had made sure that there was enough wine at each table, Podrick seemed to be having his fair share. Jon poured himself a glass after he had quickly finished the food in front of him and offered to fill Daenerys’s chalice. She murmured a thank you under her breath and took a sip. Jon had never preferred wine, it was a bit too sweet for his taste as he had grown used to the bitter ale in the Night’s Watch. Daenerys hummed happily, almost moaning at the taste of the wine. Jon’s face flushed at the obscene noise.

“This wine is phenomenal,” the queen emphasized. “Whoever made this is a god among men.”

Jon didn’t really hear her though, his mind reeling from the sound of pleasure that came from the queen. He wanted to hear it again, but this time, he wanted to be the reason for the queen to be making the noise. In the corner of his eye, he saw Lord Baelish slink into the shadows and exit the hall but payed no mind to it. Jon figured that he was probably off to sulk somewhere because the one he loved didn’t reciprocate. Sansa was finding happiness without him, and far from him. 

Daenerys took another sip of the wine and Jon nudged his foot to hers underneath the table. A challenge. She side-eyed him, a smirk forming on her lips. She covertly placed a small hand just above his knee. With her other, she took another sip of wine. Jon sucked a breath in as she deliberately dragged her nails up his thigh, pausing where his thigh met his hip. The queen reached her hand inward, just barely brushing against his half hard length before drawing her hand back into her lap. The bastard ran his hands through his hair, realizing just how royally screwed he was. 

\---

The man went to his chambers, grabbed the bow and quiver from under the mattress where he had hidden them. He loosened the satchel on his desk, feverishly dumping the contents onto the surface. Slowing down, he removed the stop on the vial which held the lethal poison and dipped an arrow carefully into the thick substance until each of the small arrow heads had at least a drop of the Long Farewell on it. In reality, he would only need two arrows, one for the Targaryen and another for the Snow but after the recent feast, he felt there was another that deserved to feel his wrath. The squire, he hadn’t cared enough to remember his name, would soon learn the consequences that came with wooing another’s beloved. He threw his now poison laced gloves in the lit fireplace in his room and grabbed a new pair, carelessly leaving the poison and two vials of antidote unattended to in his room.

\---

Arya practically dragged Gendry away from the dining hall, she was eager to leave before it got dark. They had planned on getting horses and riding around the wilderness of the North in search of Nymeria. She wanted to see her direwolf again, convinced that she could tame the beast a second time after their last encounter. Deep down, Arya was looking forward to spend time with Gendry again as well. They had grown so close before he was taken away from her by the Red Priestess, but now he was back and she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. Before their separation, Arya didn’t know how to feel about his clear interest in her. In his absence, she had started missing the black-haired boy from the forge and his ability to easily spark conversation and tease her.

“Alright, alright!” Gendry exclaimed, laughing at the fact that Arya was physically dragging him outside, holding him by his hand. “I’m coming.”

She let his hand drop from hers, darting out of the room and across the courtyard to the stables. Arya still had Needle sheathed at her hip but Gendry was weaponless, so he stopped by the armory and returned with a war hammer in hand. Arya heaved two saddles onto two horses, a chestnut and a black, along with water and two extra cloaks. 

“Do you think that your brother and that dragon queen have done it yet?” Gendry asked Arya, walking back from the armory and finding the war hammer’s balance in his hands.

“It?” Arya asked, turning from the horse she had been preparing. 

Gendry raised his brows, clarifying what he meant. Arya laughed.

“No, not yet anyways, Jon doesn’t have the faintest clue regarding how to seduce a woman, with his being at the Wall and everything. ‘I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children’,” Arya mimicked in a false, deep voice.

Gendry threw back his head in laughter, she liked hearing his genuine laugh. 

“But do you think they will, you know,” he inquired. “Eventually do it?”

“Of course they will,” Arya deadpanned. “Did you see them ogling each other during the feast?”

“I thought I was the only one who noticed that.”

“No, they’ll end up doing something about it sooner or later, I haven’t ever seen Jon look at anyone like he looks at her. But I’ve seen other men look at women the same way,” she explained as she handed the reins of one of the horses to Gendry. “Like how Tormund looks at Brienne.” 

‘Like how you look at me,’ Arya was tempted to say but resisted.

“Jon might not make the first move between them, but Daenerys doesn’t seem like the type of woman to care about stuff like that, especially since she feels the same way he does. She’s a queen. ”

Gendry nodded in agreement. Arya set her foot in the stirrup of the saddle and lifted herself into the saddle. Her friend paused and looked past her. She turned in the saddle and saw a raven land on one of the posts in the stable. Gendry guided the reins of her horse back into Arya’s hands and stepped carefully up to the raven. It had a scroll attached to its leg. Gendry carefully plucked the paper from it, the bird tilted its head and squawked, examining it in his hands. His expression dropped and he wordlessly handed it to Arya atop her horse. 

It was sealed with red hardened wax, imprinted with the lion sigil of House Lannister. Arya’s stomach got queasy. She hastily broke the seal and unraveled the scroll.

“My Lord, you seem to know me all too well,” Arya read aloud. “Indeed it would be in our best interest to seize the opportunity and rid the North of both the bastard as well as the false queen. Take this issue into your hands and your services will not be forgotten, you will receive the title of Warden of The North, if you so desire. A Lannister always pays her debts. Cordially, Cersei Lannister.”

Arya paled, clenching onto the the paper in her hands. She urgently spurred her horse forward, she needed to tell Jon.

\---

The figure ghosted his way up to the pathways held above the courtyard, giving himself a good angle of the guest chambers. He knew Jon would walk the queen back to her designated room after the feast and figured that the beast of a woman Brienne would be heading there too, her squire most likely hot on her heels. Just as he knelt into position, his first two targets entered the clearing. 

\---

The feast was over and Jon was the first to exit the hall, Daenerys right behind him. She quickened her pace to match his. He offered his arm to her and she accepted, placing her delicate hands around his arm.

“Winterfell seems to be thriving, My King,” Daenerys cooed, squeezing his bicep gently. “Yet you seem so tense.” 

“Aye, there’s been a lot on my mind as of late.”

They entered the clearing of the courtyard.

“Do enlighten me.”

\---

Nock.

\---

She faced him and moved in closer.

“What are we doing?” Jon murmured, almost a whisper. “What is this?”

“If you don’t know what this is,” the queen reached her hands to rest on either side of his neck, pulling him down towards her slightly, so their noses were almost touching. “Then you’re the dumbest man alive.”

\---

Draw.

\---

Jon placed his hands on her hips.

“Daenerys,” he trailed off.

“Please,” she whispered. “You can call me Dany.”

Their lips met, a perfect blend of ice and fire.

\---

Loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) im so sorry for leaving it like this aksjdh two cruel ways to end a chapter in a row? nice  
> 2) im gonna be out of town for a while (without wifi) so i wont be updating again until monday (at the earliest)  
> comments and kudos are appreciated, thanks for waiting this whole time for this to finally happen, yall r great :-)


	11. x

“Jon, Daenerys, move!”

The youngest Stark girl’s shrill voice broke the cold air. It was too late though, the man already got his shot. The first one was meant for her heart, but she had shifted just so the arrow landed on the shoulder opposite the side of her heart. For the next shot, he wasn’t aiming for anything vital, it was a wasted effort since the poison would do what was necessary regardless of where the arrow landed. The second hit it’s mark in the dragon queen’s right upper thigh. 

\---

Jon tore his lips from Daenerys’s when he heard Arya call to them. She had ridden into the courtyard atop a horse and leapt off when she neared them. He felt the queen’s whole body jolt in his arms, followed by a sharp hiss of her sucking in a breath, grimacing. Jon looked into her eyes with confusion, she had moved her hands from holding onto him to gripping her thigh, an arrow gouged into it. He felt himself go into a panic, frantically scanning the area to find the source of the shot. 

“Take her somewhere safe,” Arya exclaimed as she drew Needle from its sheath, running across the courtyard towards to reach the attacker above them. “Go now!”

Gendry came around the corner, several guards on his heels, following Arya. Ghost had perked up from the spot he rested and sensing urgency, followed his master. Jon bent to wrap his arm under Daenerys's legs and another arm to come around her upper back, heeding the arrows sticking out of her shoulder and thigh. He picked her up and held her tightly against his body, hurrying as fast as he could without the chance of injuring Daenerys further. There were two times where he felt arrows fly by him, none landed into him but one grazed his shoulder, tearing the light armor he wore and leaving a small red streak of blood on his left shoulder. Jon bit his lip in pain, he headed for his chambers and was met by Sansa who was leaving the feast with Podrick next to her and other familiar faces behind them. The content expression on his sister vanished entirely when she saw his own grave visage, the queen pale in his arms.

“Call for Maester Wolkan,” his voice broke. “Please.”

Sansa nodded, her eyes wide, and darted off to find the maester. 

\---

The man cursed under his breath. It would have been better if he had landed a shot in Jon as well, but one of the arrows appeared like it broke the skin so enough was enough. He would have to figure out another way to rid Winterfell of the squire. But as of now, he needed to figure out a way to escape. The ideal situation would’ve been to take out the Snow and the Targaryen under the cover of darkness, subtly poison the squire and take over the North, Sansa by his side, it fell to pieces though. He let emotions get in his way and made a rash decision, the youngest Stark girl seemed to know something was up as well. The man would still be able to make it out alive, it might just get tricky. He trusted that as long as Sansa held any power in Winterfell, he would not find himself six feet under the ground any time soon.

Not bothering to bring the bow and arrow with him, the man ghosted his way back down from the pathways above the courtyard. He hurried himself back to his chambers, grabbing the two antidotes from the desk and shoving them into his pocket. The man didn’t need them for his own sake, per say, but they could be used to bargain for his life so they were essential for his survival. He heard the footsteps of his pursuers from outside the room, he knew that running now would be pointless and just plain stupid. The man settled himself a few feet away from the door with his hands clasped behind him.

The wooden door swung open, revealing Arya Stark, several guards as well as a face that he recognized from the feast. Arya had her thin sword drawn and marched up to him, the sword pointed just inches away from his throat. He held his hands out in plain sight, surrendering to the guards who already moved to secure his hands with their own. 

“Lord Petyr Baelish,” the Stark girl spat. “How do you think Sansa will feel knowing that not only did you try to murder her brother and future queen but also that you’re still more connected to the Lannisters than you say you are.”

“You have no proof,” Petyr started with a smug smile. “That any of this has to do with the Lannisters, that is. Perhaps I just wanted Jon Snow out of the way and Daenerys Targaryen gone so I could sit upon the Iron Throne myself.”

He wasn’t entirely lying, his alliance with the Lannisters was more for connections. As soon as all of this Night King business was over and through, Petyr would see to Cersei Lannister’s death in a heartbeat. His ultimate goal was to see himself on the Iron Throne alongside his beloved, but he was a patient man and understood how to play politics in his favor. 

“Try again,” Arya held up a scroll bearing the Lannister seal in her hand. “My brother won’t be ‘out of your way’ when he finds out it was you, and sure the dragon queen might lose a little blood but she’s far from gone. You’re looking a bit too smug, none of your shots were lethal. Your plan failed, Littlefinger.”

“Did it?” he challenged. 

The man tried to move his arms but was held back by the strong grip of the guards of Winterfell. Petyr looked to Arya, who gave him a questioning look with a raised brow but nodded her head to the guards. They released him hesitantly and he walked over to his desk, picking up the now mostly empty vial that once held poison. 

“The Long Farewell,” the lord tossed the vial to Arya, who caught it and inspected it before looking up back at him, with a devastated expression. She seemed to already know the consequences that this poison brought and looked back at the posse of people behind her.

“Seize him,” she asserted quietly to the guards. “Throw him in a cell until we decide his fate.”

Petyr had his arms pinned behind him by the brutish guards as he watched Arya step out of the room with a black haired boy hot on her heels.

\---

Aside from the small cut on his shoulder, Jon made it to his chambers unscathed. He gently laid Daenerys onto the soft bed in his room, whispering sweet nothings all the way to soothe her. He pulled up a chair to sit by her side. Her face pale and twisted in pain, he knew how badly arrows stung thanks to Ygritte and his heart ached for the queen. Jon wished he could’ve protected her.

“Jon,” Daenerys started before groaning in pain and writhing where she sat up against the headboard of the bed. 

“It’ll hurt less if you just try to stay still, Dany,” he placed a hand to her cheek gently. “Sansa is summoning the maester, he’ll be able to get the arrows out.”

Daenerys nodded carefully, she allowed herself to melt into Jon’s touch. Ghost jumped up onto the bed next to the queen, whining softly.

“Ghost, hey, get down from there,” Jon commanded the wolf. His direwolf took up almost half the bed.

“No, it’s alright Jon,” Daenerys smiled as best that she could, setting a hand on Ghost’s head. “He can stay up here.”

Jon gave her a hesitant look but allowed his wolf to stay atop the bed. They sat in silence, he rubbed his thumb against her soft cheek once in awhile as they waited for Maester Wolkan to show. 

“How bad will it hurt?” Daenerys’s soft voice pondered.

“I won’t lie,” Jon started, Daenerys was strong and he didn’t feel like lying would make any difference. He moved his hand from her face to slip his hand into hers. “It hurts like hell. I once had three arrows lodged into my back so I know for a fact it’ll hurt. But whoever did this was a lousy shot, they didn’t hit anywhere vital. The one in your shoulder should come out pretty easily and the one in your thigh might be a bit difficult, you might lose a bit of blood but not enough to be life threatening.” 

Daenerys visibly swallowed.

Sansa opened the door, carrying a rather large pouch, Maester Wolkan behind her. Ser Davos and Ser Jorah entered the room as well, Brienne and Podrick hung back, guarding the door. His sister walked up to the bed, to set a hand on Jon’s shoulder before noticing the wound.

“Jon, you’re hurt,” Sansa observed, her voice oozed with concern.

“It’s just a scratch,” he responded. “It’s nothing, I’ll be fine.”

After seeing both Sansa and Daenerys’s disapproving looks, Jon sighed.

“I’ll let Maester Wolkan look at it after he’s finished tending to Dany’s wounds.”

Sansa quirked a brow at the nickname.

“Lady Sansa,” the maester motioned his hand to the Lady of Winterfell. She handed him the bag in her grip.

The older man moved around Jon to Daenerys’s side, setting the bag on the table behind them. He pulled out dark vials of liquid and handed the queen a thick strip of leather.

“For you to bite onto. You’re strong so it should all go smoothly,” the maester smiled sympathetically. “But it won’t be painless. Now the rest of you can wait outside the room until this is over.”

As the rest of them left the room, Jon felt the queen’s grip on his hand tighten but she kept a calm demeanor.

“This is an alcohol to clean the wounds, and I have bandages to wrap each of them up after as well,” the maester explained as he emptied out what he needed. “We will start with the one on your shoulder, simply because it’ll come out with less hassle. Now, Jon, if it’s alright with you, I may need your strength to help remove the arrows from her body. It would be quicker if a man of your age attempted it rather than I.”

Jon hated to have to be the one to cause his queen any pain, but leveled with himself, figuring as painful as it would be for Jon to do, it would still be less painful than the older man removing the arrow agonizingly slowly. He nodded and stood from the chair he sat in. The maester readied himself as he hunched over Daenerys’s shoulder . Daenerys took the leather strip and folded it up until it was about 3 folds thick. She hesitantly looked back to Jon before she placed her white teeth around the dark leather.

“I’ve got the alcohol here and linens to wrap you up after it’s out. Jon, on my mark, pull the arrow out in a smooth, swift motion.”

The older man placed his hand on either side of the entry wound, squeezing to relieve some of the pain. Jon gripped his hands around the slender shaft of the arrow, Daenerys flinching at the touch.

“Now.”

He pulled and in one move, the arrow came out. The queen clenched her teeth and a yelp of pain formed around the leather in her mouth. Jon mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to her. 

As soon as the arrow came out, the maester was quick to pour the liquid onto the opening, the alcohol bubbled as it mingled with blood. Maester Wolkan quickly stopped the bleeding with a clean rag and used the roll of linen to keep the cloth in place and help protect the wound from infection. 

“This next one will be a little bit more tricky,” the maester admitted. He used a spare knife to tear away the dress that covered her leg. The arrow was lodged quite high up her leg. Jon did his best to avoid staring at the bare skin of her soft thigh. Maester Wolkan got another piece of cloth, this one long and thin, and wrapped it just a few inches above the arrow. He nimbly tied it, snug enough to bring pressure but not enough to cause more discomfort. “This will help reduce blood flow to the wound, making it easier to control.”

Daenerys nodded wordlessly, leather still in her mouth and her knuckles clenched at her sides. If Jon was being honest, it looked like the queen was on the verge of unconsciousness from sheer pain. He didn’t blame her. The arrows he had been dealt hurt like a bitch to remove.

The maester did the same for the one in her thigh that he did for her shoulder, applying pressure around it and signaled for Jon to pull. 

This time, before the arrow was even out, the queen faded from consciousness, her lilac eyes rolled back into her skull. Jon had it out with the same success as the first. 

“She’s tough,” the maester commented as he cleaned and blocked off the wound before wrapping it up. “Not many would have lasted awake as long as she did, not without Milk of the Poppy at least. Speaking of which, I have some here for her when she wakes.”

The maester handed him a clear tube, filled halfway with a white, cloudy liquid. Jon swirled it around curiously. 

“I would suggest using it sparingly, too high of a dose could cause her to lose consciousness again. Now that,” the older man pointed to the tight cloth still tied around her leg. “Should come off in about two hours. That gives the blood time to slow its flow but it wouldn’t be long enough to leave a bruise underneath the fabric.”

“Thank you, Maester,” Jon replied. 

“Nothing to thank,” the maester waved his hand. “Just doing my duties. Now if you would, My King, even a small cut like that risks the possibility of infection. It would be wise to allow me to at least clean and dress it.”

Jon nodded. He shrugged off the cloak and light armor he wore underneath, leaving his chest bare. The maester hurried to his side, wiping the wound down, dissolving dried blood that had formed already and wrapping light bandages around it. 

“You already know this all but still, don’t touch it, don’t mess with the linens and call for me if you need a fresh dressing.”

The King smiled and tipped his head to the maester, dismissing him. Jon paced to his dresser and tugged a loose white tunic over his head, Sansa walked into the room as soon as the maester left. Arya followed her sister into the room, both girls carried a grave expression. Jon’s eyes darted from the two of them, concerned.

“Daenerys is alright, she’s still breathing, just passed out from the pain,” Jon informed them.

“That’s good to hear, brother, we do have another problem however,” Arya paused, holding out a nearly empty vial in her hand.

\---

After Sansa and Arya had informed Jon of the pressing matter at hand, he requested he be alone in his room. They left and dismissed Brienne and Podrick from their watch over Jon’s chamber. The sun had set, leaving Jon alone in his room. Mostly alone, anyway. Ghost slept soundly at the bottom half of his bed, curled into a ball, twitching every now and then no doubt from dreams he was having. Daenerys had faded in and out of consciousness a few times after the maester left, but she hadn’t remained awake for more than a few minutes at a time. It had been about two hours since the last arrow was removed, so Jon moved to Daenerys’s side, carefully untying the knot of the fabric above her wound as the maester instructed. 

The fabric fell free of her thigh and Jon’s eyes hesitantly traveled up her leg, to the bit of her smalls showing from under the torn dress. Daenerys stirred awake beneath his hands. Jon quickly darted his eyes away and up to the queen’s eyes, blinking awake. She groaned in pain and he grabbed the vial of cloudy liquid from the table beside them.

“Milk of the Poppy,” he handed the bottle to her. “It should help with the pain, the maester advised against using all of it at once though, it might make you pass out again.”

Daenerys accepted the vial, uncorked it and hesitantly drank about half. She made a sour face at the taste. The queen stood, limping quite significantly, and poured herself water from the jug that sat at the table. After drinking her fill, Daenerys set the glass down and looked down to her torn dress.

“A shame,” she hummed. “I liked that dress, but I suppose it was a small price to pay for removing the arrow.”

“You could wear something of mine, if you want,” Jon offered, motioning to his dresser. “I can’t promise anything glamorous and it might not fit right, but it’s better than walking around with a dress ripped up your leg.”

The queen flashed him a closed mouth smile. Jon maneuvered himself to sit on the bed, opposite of the side Daenerys had sat, minding his legs as to not disturb Ghost. Daenerys dug through his drawer, finding a pair of pants and a tunic that suited her fancy. She removed her boots and began to hesitantly take off the ruined dress, slowly, hence her fresh wounds.

“I can feel you staring, Jon Snow,” Daenerys remarked, her tone light and playful. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to watch a lady undress.”

He ducked his head with embarrassment, hearing her let out a soft laugh. Daenerys’s bare feet padded across the soft floor, joining him on the bed.

“What do you think?” the queen outstretched her arms. She had chosen a pair of dark pants and a light grey tunic. Everything fell shapelessly over her body as they were far too big for her petite figure. It was a bit ridiculous to see, but cute, in a way.

“You look regal as ever, My Queen,” Jon gave a joking bow of his head, earning another laugh from the queen.

She stretched her legs out to run her toes through Ghost’s soft fur and positioned herself so she rested her head on Jon’s shoulder. The moment was sweet.

Jon wished they could stay like that, but she needed to know about the problem with their wounds.

“Dany,” he strained. She turned to face him with a quizzical look. “There’s something you should know. While the arrows were removed safely, I can’t assure we will live much longer. Arya has informed me that Lord Baelish, our attacker, laced the arrows he used with a poison called The Long Farewell. It’s lethal once it touched the skin, unless treated with the antidote, and we both came in contact with it.”

Daenerys’s eyes scanned his own, disheartened.

“Arya suspects that Baelish might have an antidote somewhere on him, but she isn’t certain. The sure sign that the poison is taking its course is a nosebleed. It might take hours, it might take days or even weeks, but as soon as the nose starts to bleed, if we haven’t found an antidote, there’s no chance of survival. I’m so sorry.”

A heavy silence fell between them. The queen shifted closer to Jon, almost in his lap.

“Then let us hope that Arya’s suspicions are correct,” Daenerys concluded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY REALLY JUST GONNA LET THE SEASON END LIKE THAT HUH ANYWAy thank you all so much for sticking with me on that mini hiatus, the schedule should be back to a chapter a day i think, i hope this update helps you cope w how that season finale went wowzers. ive never been so stressed and conflicted at the same time thanks GoT writers. bur for real thank u guys for sticking with me this far, it'll wrap up soon ish, i gotta make them Do It and then wrap some things up with lilfinger and then we're done! not to worry tho, i have a bunch of one shots and modern aus i'd like to pursue though so i'll be pretty active in the show's absence :-) comments and kudos are appreciated


	12. xi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot of this chapter: drama, drama, a lil porn, drama and then oh shit

Jon asked Arya and Sansa to let him have the room to himself, Daenerys and his direwolf. 

“We need to find an antidote, Sansa,” Arya pointed out with urgency. “We should’ve searched him the moment we found him.”

“Arya, we will get the antidote from Lord Baelish if he has it,” her sister assured her. Arya kicked herself mentally for not knowing to search the lord as soon as they found out he had poisoned her brother and Daenerys. “They will both be alright. They’re holding him in one of the empty rooms in the great hall.”

The younger Stark nodded and hurried out into the courtyard towards the great hall. On her way, Gendry spotted her and jogged up to meet her.

“Both of them were hit?” he asked as they walked.

“Jon was just scratched with an arrow but even that is enough to set the poison on it’s course,” Arya confirmed.

“So how do you plan on getting the antidote?” Gendry asked. “If he even has it.”

“There’s no way in hell that Cersei didn’t send an antidote to Baelish,” the Stark scoffed. “He’s too smart for her to lose. The queen might not like him, but if he’s working for her, she wouldn’t risk his intelligence and connections with this poison, not without sending an antidote. She made a wise selection, I’ll give her that. The Long Farewell is a poison that almost always proves to be lethal yet has an antidote that has a higher success rate than any other in the world.”

They reached the building, Gendry following behind her as Arya swung the doors open. Several guards posted led the pair to the room that held Baelish. They entered the room, four guards posted in each corner of the room.

“Arya Stark,” the lord bowed his head in false formality with a smirk. “I’m assuming you’re looking for this.”

Baelish extended a gloved hand, revealing two fragile vials, each filled to the brim with a clear blue liquid. The antidote. Arya took an instinctive step forward before the lord closed his hand around them.

“It won’t be that easy, little wolf. If I’m allowed to leave Winterfell as a free man and you vow to forget this ever happened, then and only then will this one dose of antidote be yours. But if anyone here brings harm to me,” he tightened his hand around the vials for emphasis. “Well, then you’ll be left without a king or a queen.”

“What? No, two people were hit, one dose wouldn’t be enough,” Arya shot back.

“My dear Arya, I can’t show up to Cersei Lannister empty handed, I don’t have a death wish. I promised her two bodies and showing up with only half of my promise fulfilled would be pushing it already. You should be grateful I’m doing this much. Plus, I believe you already know who holds more importance to you and the rest of the people of Winterfell.”

“Jon wouldn’t take the cure, though. Put his selflessness and infatuation with the silver-haired queen together and he would never value his life over hers.”

“Then slip it in his ale,” Baelish crossed his arms and rolled his eyes in disbelief. “You know how to poison people without them knowing, how different is it to give them the antidote? Your mind is already made up, I can tell. Make the right decision. Save your brother, King in The North or save some foreign dragon queen who you have no relation to and leave your blood, your brother, your family to die at the hands of a Lannister. Yet another member of your noble family killed off.”

Frustration bubbled up in Arya’s chest, she found the key to saving her brother and the queen’s lives yet it was just out of her reach. Literally, Baelish stood no less than two feet away from her but if she made a move he would no doubt crush the precious vials in his hand.

“You know as well as I do that I could kill you,” Arya set a hand on Needle. “I could do it, right here and now.”

“Yes, you could, you’re now a trained assassin. I could hardly put up a fight with no weapons in this small chamber,” Baelish agreed, lips curving. “But you won’t. No, I can see you calculating it all out in your head. If you make a move, I’ll surely be able to crush both of these vials and you know that one lord’s life is not worth the life of the future queen or your brother, King in the North. The people would hate you for it and regardless, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself knowing that you were the reason for Jon Snow’s demise. So let me leave unharmed and you’ll have the one antidote you need so badly.”

Arya took a moment to consider what had just played out in front of her. An ultimatum, let the grimy lord go free and save only one of the poisoned people in Winterfell or kill Baelish and lose both her brother and the one to usurp Cersei and bring an end the Lannister bitch’s reign of terror. Neither was appealing.

“No,” Arya decided after a beat. “You won’t be leaving Winterfell, not yet Baelish. But you also won’t be harmed for the rest of your time here. I need to think this over and speak to the people it concerns before the matter is decided.”

“Wonderful, now let me back to my chambers. There’s absolutely nothing to do and no wine to drink in this dreary room.”

Arya rolled her eyes and gave a nonchalant wave of her hand to the guards present, allowing them to escort the lord back to his designated chambers.

\---

Ghost had woken up from his spot on the foot of Jon’s bed and whined at the closed chamber door of Jon’s room. He begrudgingly got up from his spot on the bed next to Daenerys to let the wolf out, who bounded happily out of the halls and into the crisp evening air.

“Your wounds should heal over in a week or so, I once had three arrows in my back thanks to an angry lover, took a little over a week for them to heal,” Jon started. His comment about Ygritte earned a raised brow from the queen.

“Tell me about this lover,” Daenerys demanded, blinking up at him as he settled back down beside the queen on the bed. “You must’ve really done something to upset her that she reached the point of shooting you full of arrows.”

“Well, I suppose she was justified in it,” Jon chuckled to himself, resting a hand on Daenerys’s thigh and tracing aimless shapes onto the fabric of her borrowed pants. “Ygritte, a woman of the Free Folk, she lived up to the expectation. She was the first woman I felt romantic feelings for. Though at the time, I was still trying to live up to the oaths I took. The ‘trying’ aspect of it faded eventually into not really giving a shit. I guess I got what I deserved from her, I lied when I claimed to fight for the Free Folk but in reality, I still was true to my loyalties in the Night’s Watch. None of them were too fond of me after that, especially not Ygritte.”

“She sounds like quite the force to be reckoned with, Ygritte of the Free Folk,” Daenerys hummed. She moved carefully, placing a leg over to the other side of him, settling her small figure so she was straddling his lap. The queen wrapped her arms around Jon’s neck, she was a bit taller than him in this position. The move would’ve caused her pain because of the fairly fresh arrow wound, but the Milk of the Poppy that Daenerys had drank earlier seemed as though it started to kick in.

“She was,” Jon mumbled, eyes focused on Daenerys’s rosy lips. He hardly paid attention to the words coming out of his mouth, Ygritte was the last thing on his mind at this point. Daenerys picked up on that, too. Daenerys moved her hands to run her fingers down his chest over every dip of a scar and every protruding muscle of his abdomen, sighing in content and resting her hands over Jon’s abs. She writhed her hips over his groin, earning a shaky breath from the man beneath her.

Jon moved his hands to settle them on her hips, squeezing gently as to not send any pain to the nearby wound. Daenerys removed her hands from his body to remove the pins and bands that held her silver hair up in intricate braids, hips moving the whole time. It was distracting to say the least. Jon did his best to focus on the way each section of hair fell to frame her face as she let all of it down rather than pay mind to the growing fire between his thighs. 

When Daenerys had finished unravelling her hair, Jon gazed at her with awe. The silver waterfall of hair fell beyond the small of her back, longer than he expected it to be. The queen always kept it up in a braid which illuded to shorter hair than she actually had. Daenerys was ethereal, almost glowing with her halo of silver hair illuminated by the soft candle light emanating throughout Jon’s chamber. He was absolutely infatuated with her.

Daenerys arranged the soft waves over and behind her shoulders to her liking before cupping her hands on either side of his face and leaning forward to kiss him.

Her lips were soft against his, he repressed a moan from the pleasure of her in his lap and the soft touch of her lips. The kiss was shy at first, both holding back but Jon slipped his tongue against her lips experimentally, deepening the kiss. Daenerys replied with a quick nip of her teeth onto his bottom lip before connecting their lips again with a newfound ferocity. She moved to run her hands through his loose curls, tugging at his hair as she pleased.

Jon moaned softly into her mouth, moving his hand up from her hip to up and under the loose shirt of his that she wore. He paused at the soft skin at her side, Jon didn’t want to rush anything she wasn’t comfortable with. In response, the queen sensed his intentions and broke the kiss. She pulled back for just a moment, placing one hand atop his forearm, guiding the hand under her shirt up slowly, enough for him to get the drift. He kept trailing his hand upwards until he met the curve of her breast, he squeezed gently before finding the nipple and rolling it between his fingers.

Daenerys gasped and instinctively leaned forward into the touch, a shiver creeping down her spine. Jon kept his hand moving and leaned up to kiss her again, catching her gasps and moans in his mouth. With his other hand still on Daenerys’s hip, he reached forwards further until his hand gripped over the curve of her ass, syncing with her movements. 

He gave a cautious squeeze of his hand over her rear, causing her to falter and moan into his mouth. The queen pulled away, pupils blown wide with lust and bit her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Dany, are you okay with this?” Jon asked, still unsure if she was comfortable. He didn’t want to push any boundaries. 

“More than okay with it, Jon,” she reached a hand down between them, brushing a hand against his embarrassingly hard length. 

Jon breathed helplessly. 

She ran a finger over him through his tented trousers sending chills throughout his whole body. Daenerys quirked a brow and unlaced the pants he wore and placed a small hand under the fabric of his under garments. Jon felt like his whole body went up in flames.

“Fucking hell, Dany,” Jon gasped. “You know I want this, I really do and this isn’t some bullshit excuse but we shouldn’t. Not while your wounds are still recovering.”

Daenerys pouted as Jon took his hand out from under her shirt and set it against her ass adjacent to his other hand.

“You’re no fun, Jon Snow,” she remarked as she removed her hand from down his pants but still stayed in his lap. The queen ran her hands back through his dark hair.

“I promise you, I’ll be more fun once I can touch you without worrying about injuring you further.”

“I expect you to live up to that promise, My King,” Daenerys waggled her eyebrows with a laugh. She swung her leg back onto the other side of his legs and laid on her left side. Jon joined her, laying on his right despite the sting of his injury, to face her. The pair stayed like that, together in bed simply looking into the other’s eyes.

“Do you think Arya will be able to find an antidote on Baelish?”

Jon focused in on the queen’s question, the reality of their situation dawning on him again and dragging him back down to the ground.

“If he has it, he wouldn’t be able to hide it from her,” Jon replied. 

Daenerys didn’t say anything after that.

\---

Jon had woken up before Daenerys, the sun barely showing it’s face. He took a moment to gaze at her sleeping figure in awe. None of it seemed real, her relaxed and unguarded stature was something new to see. She looked at peace for once.

Arya barged into his room without warning, Sansa behind her pushing Bran in his wheelchair.

“Oh, shit!” the youngest Stark girl exclaimed with a smile after seeing the disheveled, sleeping figure of Daenerys Targaryen in her eldest brother’s bed, her older sister smacked her against the arm, chiding her. The older girl and Jon’s brother simply smiled at the sight, happy for him.

“Keep your voice down,” Jon hissed, looking back at the queen. She tossed and rolled over but remained sleeping. “Don’t you know how to knock? What could you possibly need at this hour of the day?”

Jon ushered them outside of his room and closed the door behind him, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Well, uh, congratulations,” Arya snorted and Bran made a noise that vaguely mimicked a chuckle. 

“What Arya meant to say,” Sansa glared at her younger sister. “Is that Baelish has the antidotes.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Jon let out a breath.

“It would be, but he wouldn’t be himself unless it came with a twist,” Sansa explained. “He’ll only give one of the antidotes to us and demands his safety in exchange. Arya tried her hand in it and used force but he threatened to crush both of the vials if anyone came to harm him. The situation isn’t ideal but I have a plan that might be able to rid him of Winterfell for good as well as give us access to both the antidotes that we need.”

Jon quirked a brow and motioned for her to go on.

\---

The King in The North dismissed his siblings after agreeing to Sansa’s plan and turned to his room again, maybe to catch another few hours of sleep. He opened the door. In his room, Daenerys sat up awake in the bed, a hand over her mouth. They locked eyes. From the queen’s nose, a steady flow of blood poured out onto the sleeve of her shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry i keep ending these chapters like this shhshdgdgds if i could stop i would. comments and kudos appreciated as always :-)


	13. xii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit short, my apologies but it's important for the story

Daenerys woke up with soft sunlight seeping into the room, alone in bed. The queen looked around Jon’s room and placed a hand on the spot where he had slept, the bedding under her palm still warm so she figured that he was not far. She heard faint voices on the other side of the closed door and assumed that among them was Jon. Sitting up against the headboard of his bed, Daenerys brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Her wounded shoulder and thigh still stung but less so than yesterday.

She thought about quickly things had went into a downwards spiral in Winterfell. Just as she was starting to see a different side of Jon, to learn to know him for who he truly is, Cersei Lannister decided that she needed to not only order Baelish to shoot her full of arrows but also poison them. Daenerys picked at a loose thread in Jon’s borrowed tunic. Sure, she at least was able to have Jon to herself, have his hands on her and hers on him like last night, but it felt worthless, knowing she might be dead if an antidote wasn’t found. She couldn’t die, not here and not now. Daenerys was going to win the Great War by Jon’s side and then sit upon the Iron Throne to mend the things that Cersei Lannister had soiled during her time as queen. No, she wouldn’t die here, she couldn’t. Daenerys would not let herself die at the hands of a Lannister as her father died, not ever.

Daenerys felt a wet sensation at her upper lip. She brought a hand up to her nose and pulled it back to find a crimson streak of blood on the sleeve of Jon’s shirt. 

The poison had started to run it’s course through her body.

Her heart sank, feeling vulnerable and helpless. There was nothing she could do about it besides hope that Arya would find an antidote. Daenerys tried to stop the bleeding as a wave of uneasiness washed over her. She hated herself for it but she felt, honest to the Gods, scared for her life for the first time in moons. A tear fell down her face and she sniffled in terror at the sudden realization that her life could very well be over in a matter of hours. And here she sat, completely weak and incapable of doing anything to help her own situation.

The door swung open, revealing the King in The North. Her body jumped in surprise and she looked up at him from the bed. Seeing the concern clouded in her eyes, Jon’s previously relieved expression fell into sorrow at the sight of her, he hurried to her side, joining her on the bed.

“Dany,” he cupped her face in his large hands and brushed the tears off her cheek. Oh, those hands of his, calloused with wear yet soft and gentle on her skin. He searched her eyes, Jon’s gaze full of concern and worry. “Hey, it’ll be okay. It’s all gonna be alright. Arya found out Baelish has an antidote, Sansa is on her way to get the dose right now. You’re going to live, My Queen.”

Daenerys furrowed her brows.

“‘The dose’,” she repeated his words. “There’s only one?”

Jon smiled softly, wiping away the remaining few tears.

“There are two doses,” Jon admitted. “But Baelish is only willing to give up one. Something about how he needs to uphold his word to Cersei. Sansa told me she would most likely be able get the other for me, depending on the extent of the lord’s trust in her.”

“She will ‘most likely’ be able to get it?”

“Daenerys, I trust her,” Jon assured. “Sansa’s smart and she knows him the best out of all of us, if Arya couldn’t force his hand, we need to find another way but we will find a way.”

“I won’t take the cure,” the queen shook her head. “Not before you. I lost Khal Drogo to something I couldn’t control. I won’t let you see the same fate.”

“Your nose just started bleeding, mine hasn’t,” the king pointed out. “You should take it first, it shouldn’t be too long before Sansa returns with the first and she’ll be back before nightfall with another if all goes accordingly.”

“And what if it doesn’t?” Daenerys demanded, emotion bubbling up inside of her. “What if Sansa doesn’t succeed? Winterfell would be left without their king because the foreign queen was greedy enough to take the only cure available to them.”

Jon sat wordlessly, his eyebrows knit in concern.

“I would be responsible for your death because I stood idly by while you were still in need of a cure. If I accepted the antidote before you and you didn’t receive yours, your story would end like my late husband. And I can’t do that,” her voice faltered. “I can’t do it, call me weak or selfish but I can’t live to see another man I love die in my arms. That’s just not an option, please, Jon Snow I can’t have you leave me too.”

Daenerys’s voice had morphed into a choked sob by the end. She stood up in frustration, pacing around the room. The queen ran a hand through her hair and cursed under her breath at the pain of putting her weight on the injured leg. She turned her back to Jon, he still sat on the bed motionless. In her hands, she gripped two handfuls of hair and tugged anxiously. 

It was all true, what she had just said, and it scared her. She had known for a while, that she felt the way that she did about Jon, but this was the first time that Daenerys had admitted it to herself. Before she had left for Winterfell, she had pushed Daario away and all but secluded herself from Ser Jorah after she arrived to the snowy place, Jon was all that she had left in this strange land. Daenerys couldn’t lose him too, another tear descended from her eye and she stiffly brushed it away.

Jon’s hands came behind her, placed on her waist and turned her to face him. She ducked her head before a hand came up under her chin, tipping it up to look at him.

“I love you, Daenerys Targaryen,” Jon confessed. “I have for a while now and I’m not leaving you, I promise.”

He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly.

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” the queen.

“I didn’t.”

Daenerys smiled and rubbed her sore eyes and rested her head against his chest, pulling Jon into a hug.

\---

Sansa walked down to the guest chambers with a guard by her side. He held the door for her and she gave a soft thank you, walking into Petyr’s room to find him sitting at the desk with a glass of wine. 

“Lord Baelish, I’ve come to a decision.” 

“Excellent,” he man smiled and laced his fingers together. “The right one, I’m assuming.”

“Yes, when you chose to hand over the antidote, you will walk out of Winterfell as a free man, unharmed.”

Baelish smiled and reached into a small satchel at his hip, pulling out a small vial of clear blue liquid.

“Thank you, Lord Baelish,” Sansa took the antidote in her hand and with the other she slipped a scroll into his hand, and exited promptly.

\---

Petyr discretely took the scroll into his hands. Jon Snow had only posted one guard in his room and two outside of it. The lord turned his back to the guard in his room and unrolled the paper, reading Sansa's elegant handwriting silently.

“There is a feast set to happen in a few hours, Arya, Jon and Daenerys should be attending. I will take it upon myself to gather you for the feast, but instead we will ride South of Winterfell. Arya had plotted to set men after you after this feast because she assumed I would talk to you during the feast. Instead, we will leave while she is in the great hall and I will ride with you down the King’s Road until you are a safe distance from this place, allowing you time to escape as I have promised. Your’s truly, Lady Sansa of Winterfell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos r appreciated!!


	14. xiii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a sansa pov chapter but this was super fun to write

Sansa hurried back to Jon’s chamber, where her brother and the queen seemed to spend most of their time. She was happy for them, Jon seemed to really like her and Daenerys, while a little harsh at first glance, seemed to have a kind heart. It was unfortunate for the two of them that Baelish had decided to make an attempt to kill them both right in the beginning of whatever was flourishing between them. The Lady of Winterfell wasn’t worried though, she was going to get both antidotes and she would see to it that Lord Baelish would be a thorn in her side no longer.

With a gentle knock on the door, Sansa waited patiently for her brother to answer. 

The wooden door creaked as it was opened, Jon allowed her inside. Daenerys stood next to the bed, eyes a bit swollen, Sansa recognized the evidence of tears immediately. Sansa’s eyes trailed down slightly to the dark red crusted blood around one of the silver-haired queen’s nostrils. Sansa was relieved that she arrived when she did because it appeared as though Daenerys was in desperate need of the antidote. She walked over to the queen and placed the vial carefully in the shorter’s hand. Sansa looked into her purple irises and closed her palms over the queen’s hands with a reassuring squeeze.

The queen took a moment to search her eyes before turning to Jon, who gave a nod of his head. With the slight encouragement, Daenerys uncorked the small vial and tipped it into her mouth, swallowing the little bit of liquid inside it.

“Thank you, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys murmured in honest.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Sansa dipped her head. “I must go to retrieve the second. If all goes according to plan, I should be back around nightfall with another antidote in hand for Jon. You received two arrows laced with the poison and Jon was only scratched with a single arrow, so logically that should leave us plenty of time to retrieve the other antidote before the poison runs its course throughout his body. It the meantime, if you are feeling up to it, there is a small feast to be held in a few hours at midday. I’m sure Jon would happily accompany you, if you so desire.”

The queen gave a noncommittal shrug and thanked Sansa again on her way out. As she had taken the cure, Daenerys appeared hesitant to Sansa, it made sense to her though. She looked like it had pained her to use a cure while Jon still remained in danger. That in itself made it clear to Sansa that the queen cared a great deal about Jon.

\---

On her way to enter Lord Baelish’s room, she was stopped by a guard who had questioned why the Lady of Winterfell was bringing a man who tried to murder her brother to a feast. Sansa pointed out that while he had committed such a crime, Lord Baelish still was a lord and hadn’t eaten in at least a day. The guard deemed it fair enough, as if Sansa needed his permission to do as she pleased, being the Lady of Winterfell and all. 

Lord Baelish smiled eagerly as he saw her, offering his arm to her. Sansa placed her hand on his arm and walked with him out of the guest chambers.

“There are two horses I’ve had prepared for us waiting in the stable,” Sansa informed the man, discreetly giving his arm a squeeze with her hand. His steely green eyes looked up to meet her icy blue ones.

They strolled across the courtyard and Baelish stopped them.

“My Lady,” he hissed softly. “You may want to wear the hood of your cloak. The boy that accompanies Arya nearly everywhere she goes is in the forge. He could recognize you.”

Sansa looked up to see Gendry idly keeping himself busy in the forge, he was entirely absorbed in whatever he was doing. She tugged her hood over her distinct auburn hair and turned the both of them just slightly, so they could still reach the stables yet couldn’t be identified by anyone in the smithy. In the stables stood three horses, two of which she had saddled previously, a dark bay and a white one. Sansa mounted the white mare, watching the man next to her do the same and noticing a small brown satchel at his hip, exactly where Arya had told her it would be. She spurred her horse towards the East Gate, which would bring them to the King’s Road.

“He reminds me of the squire,” Lord Baelish stated. Sansa turned to him and blinked, urging him to explain.

“The boy in the forge, Gendry, he reminds me of the Lady Brienne’s squire,” the man went on.

“Oh, Podrick, you mean,” Sansa offered his name. She saw Lord Baelish’s grip tighten on the reins in his hands, no doubt in jealousy. Sansa liked Podrick, from their night at the previous feast she found herself genuinely happy when she was in his presence. He was kind to her, and from the past experiences with men and their interest in her, genuine niceties were something new to Sansa entirely. From Joffrey Baratheon to Ramsay Bolton and even to Petyr Baelish, the men who showed interest in her only wanted to use her for the power that came with being Ned Stark’s eldest daughter. She wasn’t an idiot, Sansa knew that Baelish was feeling envious of Podrick Payne simply because he could bring a smile to Sansa’s face. “What makes you say that?”

“They both are hopelessly in love with a Stark girl,” Lord Baelish’s voice reeked of bitterness, confirming Sansa’s suspicion.

“In love? Gendry might love Arya but I don’t think Podrick is in love with me, he’s my friend,” she played dumb. The lord gave a snort of a laugh at her and settled back into the saddle, pleased with her answer. It mildly amused Sansa at how low of an opinion that Lord Baelish had of her. The man still viewed her as the frightened young girl that she had been in King’s Landing all those years ago, but she wasn’t. Sansa had matured and learned so much since then, she knew how to play into his little game and she did so by feigning stupidity. Baelish was a fool to buy into it, yet he did, because she had learned from the best. Sansa had observed him all of these years and learned it all from Lord Baelish himself. 

\---

The pair stopped riding just before the castle of House Cerwyn, having ridden for a good few hours, Sansa suggested that they stop to let the horses drink from the stream that broke off of the White Knife river. Baelish dismounted his dark horse and moved to offer his hand to steady Sansa as she dismounted the white mare. She took it into her own and hesitantly placed her feet onto the ground. They stood in silence, minus the rushing flow of the stream adjacent to them. Baelish was to Sansa’s left and he turned to face her, his back to the North.

“I’m sorry, Sansa, that Daenerys will die,” he started, taking her gloved hands into his own. He had assumed that the antidote he had given to her was for Jon. “I know how much you despise Cersei and in your mind, perhaps the dragon queen would’ve been a way to rid Westeros of Cersei Lannister’s wrath. I’m very sorry that she had to die, you know as well as I do that Cersei will get what she wants one way or another, and in this instance, she got her wish through me. You must hate me for that.”

It was all bullshit, another string of lies slipping through Lord Baelish’s lips, Sansa knew that much. He removed a hand from her hands, sliding it up her shoulder, up her neck and rested at her cheekbone. It took everything inside her not to smack his hands away, but she needed this distraction, a way to buy her time for what would happen tonight. What needed to happen tonight. Jon had trusted her with his life and she couldn’t fail him.

“But at least your brother will live, he’s more important to you than some entitled foreign queen.”

He brushed a thumb against Sansa’s cheek, Baelish’s eyes darting down to her mouth. Beyond him, Sansa saw Arya riding atop a horse come to a halt a few yards away and dismount, silently creeping towards them with her sword Needle in hand.

“Jon is my brother, of course he’s important to me,” Sansa mumbled with innocence and focused back on Baelish’s eyes. “My family is all that I have left.”

“My dear Sansa,” Lord Baelish inched towards her. “You have me, as well, you’ll always have me. When I sit atop the Iron Throne, this service of safely delivering me out of Winterfell will not be forgotten. I love you, My Lady, I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

He closed his eyes and brought their lips together, Sansa kept her eyes open but didn’t fight it. She was so close to getting what she needed, her sister just feet behind Baelish. The man pulled away from her, only to back into the sharp point of Arya’s sword. Startled, Baelish looked to Sansa and attempted to turn around. 

“Turn around,” Arya started, pressing the blade further against him. “And I’ll skewer you.”

Lord Baelish fell into a panic, reaching for the satchel by his side, looking down when he couldn’t find it. Sansa held back a smirk as Arya shook the satchel that she had swiped from his side next to his ear. 

“Petyr Baelish,” her sister said in a mocking tone from behind him. “I’m assuming you’re looking for this.”

The lord’s eye’s widened, Arya’s words clearly rang significant to him. Baelish looked to Sansa, desperate for an explanation.

“I am not ‘Your Lady’, Petyr Baelish,” Sansa clasped her hands in front of her, stepping back from the man before her. “You don’t love me, like you say you do. You might have loved Catelyn Stark, but I am not my mother. You don’t love me, no, you love the power behind my name or perhaps you love how easily you think you can manipulate me. Maybe both. But you don’t love me for who I am, how could you love someone you hardly care for?”

“Sansa please, I do love you,” the man pleaded. “I care about you more than anyone. I saved you from Cersei Lannister, I brought you to safety. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“I will be forever grateful for what you did in King’s Landing,” Sansa said in truth. “But you murdered my Aunt Lysa and now you’ve tried to kill my brother. If you truly cared for me, why would you kill off what remaining family I have?”

Lord Baelish opened his mouth to defend himself, but nothing came out.

“Arya wanted to kill you in your sleep or maybe poison you and retrieve the second antidote from your corpse. I didn’t think that suited you though, not after all you’ve done to me. You rescued me from King’s Landing only to give me away to marry the sadistic Ramsay Bolton to be raped and beaten at his hand. I thought I was safe with you, I felt so relieved when you smuggled me out of the Lannister’s grip. Then you all but left me to die. Do you know how that feels? To be so close to safety only to come up just short of reaching it. I suppose you know how that feels now, though. You thought I would bend to your will and just let you leave Winterfell, unscathed. If you believed that then I suppose you aren’t as smart as you claim to be. You put me through hell, I probably would be dead if not for Theon, Lady Brienne and Podrick. They have done more for me than you think you have. I am not the trembling little girl that I once was back in King’s Landing, the girl that you could manipulate so easily, no, I am Sansa Stark, eldest daughter of Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard Stark, I am the Lady of Winterfell, and you’re going to die today, Lord Petyr Baelish, for all that you’ve done to me.”

Petyr made an attempt to defend himself but was cut short as Arya shoved Needle expertly through his heart. The late Lord Petyr Baelish collapsed before her.

Sansa felt a tear slide down from her eye. She wiped it away, mixed emotions running through her. Most of her was glad he was dead but another part of her was remorse that it had to happen. He had been with her ever since her father’s death but she ultimately decided that Lord Petyr Baelish was no good, wherever he went, a wake of troubles and death would follow in his shadow.

Between the two horses, Arya had been rolling the corpse to the bank of the river, shoving it into the strong currents of the river. They both watched as his body floated South. Arya opened the satchel, making sure the antidote was still inside and shoved it into her pocket. She silently mounted the dark horse Baelish had ridden on and turned it to fetch the other horse she had originally ridden on. Sansa stood still for a moment longer, allowing the reality of it all sink in before turning at mounting the white horse that stood beside her, spurring it forward to meet Arya’s pace. She was ponying the third horse behind her.

“You made the right decision, you know. You saved Jon,” Arya stated plainly, noticing her sister’s somber expression.

“I know,” Sansa agreed curtly.

The Stark sisters rode back to Winterfell without saying another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u didnt catch it, baelish was surprised bc arya repeated what he had said to her when he was taunting her with the antidote a couple chapters back lol. comments and kudos are appreciated!!!


	15. xiv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter! because i dont really have much more to write and im not gonna drag it out into the great war, ill let you guys use your own imaginations to envision how you think that would end up happening w this story

It had been about a week since the day that Sansa had provided Jon and his queen with the cure needed to negate the poison that once flowed through both of their systems. Jon hadn’t asked his sister about Lord Baelish but assumed that he wouldn’t be returning to Winterfell anytime soon, or even in this lifetime. 

There really wasn’t much to do besides continue to train and wait until the Night King made an advance on the Wall, then it would be necessary to jump into action but for now, things in Winterfell kept to a dull roar. Daenerys’s shoulder had healed over quickly, her thigh still a bit sore at times but not often enough to bother her.

They spent most of their time wandering around Winterfell, observing the people all around them. Arya often went off with Gendry on horseback to explore the wilderness outside Winterfell’s gates, something about finding Nymeria. If they weren’t outside, the pair could be found sparring together in the courtyard, alongside Lady Brienne and Podrick.

Jon stood watching out over the courtyard, above the ground, no doubt in the exact place where Lord Baelish had taken aim and attempted to assassinate himself and Daenerys. It was haunting, in a way, to stand exactly where the man who almost took his life once stood.

Jon had been so enraptured in thought that he hadn’t seen the silver-haired queen approach him.

She cleared her throat, alerting him of her presence. He looked up, startled, before relaxing seeing as it was just Daenerys. The queen flashed him a killer smile, the one which every time Jon saw it, his knees went weak. She gently placed a hand around his bicep, and placed herself so they were not quite parallel but also not standing side by side. Daenerys’s rear ghosted over Jon’s thigh. Her body almost radiated heat. 

Below them, Jon saw Lady Brienne and Podrick sparring, at it again, several feet away Arya and Gendry who were doing the same. Sansa and Tormund stood at the edge of the clearing, Tormund watching the tall blonde with fascination and Sansa smiling to herself watching Podrick get bested by Brienne numerous times.

“She finally looks content, your eldest sister,” Daenerys noted, lightly smiling down at the same sight that Jon was seeing. “Ever since she returned from retrieving the antidote, Lady Sansa seems more genuine, like she’s allowing herself to feel happiness after all this time.”

“Aye, you aren’t wrong about that,” Jon agreed. 

Podrick had his ass handed to him by Lady Brienne, earning a laugh from Tormund and Sansa. She went to him and tugged his arm to bring him away from where Brienne stood triumphantly. From the corner of his eye, Jon saw Arya sheathe Needle at her side and tug at Gendry’s arm, pulling him away from the courtyard. Tormund took up this opportunity to challenge the blonde in combat, while Sansa placed a hand to the dark haired squire’s cheek, looking him over for bruises with concern. He smiled and seemingly assured her that he was alright, Sansa ducked her head in embarrassment when he reached to hold her hand reassuringly. It brought a smile to Jon’s face, seeing Sansa happy again after all this time.

“Petyr Baelish felt things for her that a man of his age should not feel for a young woman like Sansa,” he continued, voice thick with distaste as he remembered the last time he had spoken with the lord. “‘I love Sansa, as I loved her mother’. He said that to me before I left for Dragonstone to meet with you. I told him that if he talked to her, I’d kill him, but in the end, Sansa was the one to do it not me. I suppose it was more meaningful for her to do it.”

“Lady Sansa is strong, the events happening all around her forced her to grow up,” Daenerys suggested. “I see a lot of myself in her. We were both forced to grow into the harsh world around us yet in the end, it has aided us greatly. She’s Lady of Winterfell and I intend to rule the Seven Kingdoms. I suppose with the recent events, there’s another similarity between her and I. My brother Viserys, I told you a bit about him, he liked to hold power over me, use me to get the power he so craved. Lord Baelish did the same to Sansa, thought he could twist and bend her to his will and it ultimately caused him to die, like Viserys.”

Jon recalled how Daenerys’s brother had died, he threatened to kill her unborn child and ended up with molten gold being poured onto his head. From what Jon knew, Viserys wasn’t a good man, he was ultimately going to get killed one day due to his greed and entitlement and while he was Daenerys’s brother, she wouldn’t stop fate from catching up to him. 

“Sansa said something to me, when I was first getting settled in,” Daenerys continued. “Just after you realized that you were being an ass to me.”

Jon let out a laugh at his own foolishness, earning another smile from Daenerys.

“She told me that I wasn’t at all like Cersei Lannister,” the queen hesitated. “I do worry about that every once in a while, that I’m similar to Cersei. I’ve ruled over different people from time to time, some hating me for doing what I thought was right. I can’t afford to make a mistake that would make the people I rule over to hate me, like they hate Cersei.”

“One thing I’ve learned from being King in The North and being Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch,” Jon started. He understood her worry and felt it in himself as well. “Is that you can’t please everyone you rule over. We both know how the Night’s Watch ended and had it not been for Sansa or if I came back empty handed, my leaving for Dragonstone might’ve come back to stab me in the heart again. Both times I thought I was doing what was right, but there will always be those who oppose. I’m not saying that you’ll get killed if you make one bad decision as queen, but sometimes you have to make the decision to go with what you believe is for the greater good and accept that there will be consequences after.”

Daenerys seemed to genuinely take his words into consideration. Another difference between her and Ygritte. The wildling woman loved to say that Jon knew nothing, perhaps as a joke but she also never did listen to what he had to say without challenging it. The feeling of being genuinely appreciated by a lover was new, but not in a bad way. He could definitely get used to it. 

They didn’t say anything else at that point, Jon placed an arm around Daenerys’s small waist and brought her closer to him. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her aroma. The queen smelled of fire and wildflowers.

\---

The two descended and walked across the courtyard, Jon wanted to show Daenerys the godswood that resided inside the walls of Winterfell. The place was beautiful, so was she. It only made sense to him.

As they walked towards the forest, idle chat between them, the pair happened to walk by the armory. A few yards from them in a shadowed corner outside the armory stood Arya and Gendry. Well, standing wasn’t all they were doing, the older boy had Arya pinned against the stone wall, kissing her with passion. Daenerys nudged Jon with her elbow, giggling as she pointed them out to him. Jon raised his brows, sure, he expected the two of them to end up doing this at some point, but he didn’t expect to see it happen in front of him, in the wide open. He wouldn’t ever let his sister live it down. 

“That’s one way to make the best of it!” Jon cupped his hands around his mouth as he called out to Arya, rephrasing the words they had exchanged when Arya confronted him about his attraction to the queen.

Arya’s eyes flew open and she shoved Gendry off of her, immediately fired up.

“Oh, shut up,” she yelled back. “It’s not like you aren’t doing the same!”

The young Stark moved to stomp up to Jon before Gendry set out an arm in front of her, clearly desperate to return to their original state. Arya looked to him, then back at Jon, contemplating her choices before ultimately deciding, with a scowl to Jon, to turn back to the black haired boy before her, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him again. With her hands behind Gendry’s neck, she held up a finger to Jon.

Both Daenerys and himself snorted with laughter at the universal gesture for ‘fuck off’ that Arya had given him. They left the two alone to allow them all the privacy. As much privacy as they could get in the middle of the day in plain sight. Jon led the queen towards the Godswood of Winterfell.

\---

Jon led the queen into the snow covered forest, following right behind her. She looked all around her at the forest. Jon took her hand in his own and led her between the trees.

“This is beautiful,” Daenerys murmured, her voice a breathy whisper.

“It’s even more beautiful come springtime and it isn’t blanketed in snow,” Jon agreed.

The queen wore a short, white dress that split just below her abdomen in the front, coming down to just above her knee, over tight grey trousers with dark, heeled boots. The neckline of the dress dipping down to her collarbone. She also wore the white cloak that Sansa had made for her over her shoulders, a brooch with three dragon heads, the Targaryen signature, holding the cloak in place. Two small braids came around either side of her head, meeting in the back, leaving the rest of her silver hair to fall over her shoulders and frame her face sweetly. 

His want for her had easily multiplied since the night that they shared a heated night together in Jon’s room. Daenerys had since made it a habit of staying with him in his bed, kissing and touching, but the two never going all the way. Jon feared that he would reopen the gash in her thigh if they did anything, but now it was healed.

“What is this place?” the queen asked him with eagerness. 

“It’s a godswood,” Jon explained, walking her past the weirwood heart tree. The snow softly crunching under their steps and the rustling winds were the only sounds to be heard in the serene forest. “A small forest, usually within the walls of a castle. My father, Lord Stark, would come here after each time he took a man’s life. It’s intended use is for people among the Seven Kingdoms come to them to worship the Old Gods. I’m not a believer in any gods myself but regardless of the religious intent, this place is extraordinary.”

The queen hummed in agreement.

“It reminded me of you,” Jon told her in honesty. “The haunting beauty of this place is similar to your own. I’ll admit that it’s a bit foolish to say aloud, but it’s the truth.”

Daenerys turned to face him, her shimmering hair littered with flakes of snow. She looked up to him, eyes wide, she bit her bottom lip between her teeth. He took a step towards her, placed two hands on her hips. 

“I don’t know what to say,” the queen said, her voice a whisper, she slid her hands up his arms and shoulders until settling them looped behind his neck.

The two stood with only an inch apart, Jon closed the gap between them, bringing their lips together. Daenerys let out a sigh of happiness as she closed her eyes. The kiss was gentle at the start, Jon parted his lips as she did the same. He grazed his teeth over her plump bottom lip and deepened the kiss. Something in Jon came alive with a spark, realizing again that now her didn’t have to restrain himself due to her wounds. They had healed.

Jon kissed her with ferocity and, without breaking the kiss, moved forward until Daenerys’s back came in contact with a thick oak tree behind her. The queen seemed to catch the drift, grinding her hips against him. His fingers gripped against her and brought her hips closer to him, desperate for physical contact. Daenerys moved her hands up to pull at his hair, gasping into his mouth from feeling Jon’s hardness against her.

He pulled back for a moment, his queen breathing heavy and cheeks rosy from the cold as well as the intensity between them. Daenerys’s eyes were dark, pupils almost taking over the entire lilac iris. Jon made a split second decision to himself and pulled off his right glove with his teeth, throwing it haphazardly into the snow next to them. Daenerys watched him carefully before pulling him back down to bring their lips together again.

With her mouth on his, Jon moved his hand to rest over the split in the fabric of the queen’s dress and Daenerys rolled her hips towards him in response. He moved his hand under the fabric of the dress, under the band of her trousers and hesitantly placed his finger over her warmth, wetness seeping through the fabric of her smalls. Jon felt her lips curve into a soft smile against his lips, encouraging him. Jon slid his hand past the thin fabric and held a finger against her for a moment before placing his finger into the wetness, arching it slightly. Daenerys made a soft noise of pleasure. He continued to kiss her, moving and arching his finger within her before sliding another finger into her. Jon arched his fingers a bit harder this time, hitting a sweet spot inside her. The queen let out an obscene moan at his move, clenching her fingers in his hair.

Jon’s pants became increasingly tight. Daenerys moved a hand from in his hair to unbuckle the belt at his hips, she unfastened it and tossed it beside his discarded glove. He faltered against her with a gasp of breath as she boldly placed a small hand on him through his pants, squeezing around his length. Jon withdrew his hand from her to fumble with his pants and Daenerys pouted at the absence of his fingers.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jon asked her.

Daenerys nodded and gave him a smile as she loosened her trousers, slipping them down to her ankles and stepping out of them, her cloak brushing at her bare legs. Jon had loosened his own pants, allowing his cock to bob upright between them. Daenerys hooked her leg around his waist and bit at his lip as he lined the head of his length up with the slit of her womanhood. Jon slowly sank himself into her, repressing a moan from the warmth and softness of being inside her, and she brought another leg around his waist. She balanced herself with her back against the solid tree and Jon steadied Daenerys by wrapping a hand under each of her thighs. 

He quickened the tempo gradually, allowing Daenerys to adjust to the sensation of him inside her as she needed. She placed her hands on either side of his face sweetly, moans and short sounds of pleasure escaping both of them as they kissed. Jon kept his pace not too fast yet not too slow and thrusted into her deeply. The queen tilted her head back and Jon moved forward to latch his mouth onto her exposed neck. He kissed at her soft skin, biting at it before kissing each spot he bit to soothe it. The sounds escaping the queen beneath him only encouraged him further. Daenerys arched her back and clenched herself around his length causing Jon to falter. He moved a hand from gripping her thigh to slipping it up and under the queen’s dress, gripping the soft curve of her breast and squeezing her nipple between his fingers. 

Jon lasted for only a few more strokes before finishing inside of her. He let Daenerys drop her legs back down to the snow covered ground to redress and he retrieved his belt and glove. 

“Do you think we just angered any gods by doing that here?” the queen asked with a joking tone.

“Probably,” Jon snorted with a chuckle. “But I don’t really care what they think, if they do exist.”

“Me neither,” Daenerys agreed, trying to get her hair to lay neatly again after getting mussed up during their recent activity.

They walked out of the godswood arm in arm. 

\---

Daenerys laid on her stomach, Jon laying on his back in his bed. She was running a hand over his chest, along the scars and muscles of his body as he told her of many things he had seen beyond the Wall. Ghost slept, curled in a ball, at the foot of the bed so Daenerys kept her knees bent with her feet in the air as to not disturb the great wolf. She looked into Jon’s eyes as he spoke, his dark grey eyes full of the passion and wildness that came with being a Stark. Sure, he was born a Snow, but he was raised into becoming a Stark and no one could convince Daenerys otherwise. She allowed herself to shift positions and curl up against Jon, he brought his arm around her.

Jon was very different to her than her past lovers. He wasn’t Khal Drogo, they weren’t forced to marry and he wasn’t Daario, the man who she struggled to reciprocate feelings for. He was something entirely new, but not all things new were bad, no. She could definitely get used to it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who needs #boatsex when #forestfucking is right around the corner?? lol i hope you guys liked this, my bad for not updating sooner it was just hard to find the time to finish this chapter in one day, one last time comments and kudos are appreciated!! :-)


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